


My Name is...

by blockovich



Series: Gotham Soulmates [1]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon-Typical Violence, Celibacy, Fanart, M/M, No Sex, Older Man/Younger Man, Platonic Romance, Protectiveness, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 14:30:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 83,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7109200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blockovich/pseuds/blockovich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All it takes is one conversation to alter the lives of two people entirely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue and Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unlikely Initial Conversation.

# “My Name Is…”

  
_Chapter Description: A meeting, a connection, too soon._  


See end of chapter for Author’s Notes.

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, nor do I own Gotham, I just own this crazy concept. Also, I'm working off of the lovely _coldtomyflash_ 's Soulmate AU premise, found at http://coldtomyflash.tumblr.com/post/121536977847/soulmate-aus-and-world-building. I even have a similar glossary of terms on my tumblr, http://blockovich.tumblr.com/. Finally, this is an unbeta'd work. All mistakes are mine.

  
_Prologue_  
**The Gordons**  


District Attorney Gordon is starting to worry about his son’s Soulmate. He knows that Soulmate’s came when they would, such a trite but true statement, but the fact that his son’s soulmate is much younger than Jim worries him. He knows Jim had more and more of his classmates have Words appear recently, which only led to Jim asking more and more questions about Soulwords. Gordon doesn’t think it is that dire just yet, even with Jim being a latent Manifest... Jim was only 11 after all. That wasn’t so old just yet. Gordon had not had his words show up until he was 10, so a little age difference may run in the family. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from worrying, despite all his internal reasoning.

He doesn’t really want to think about it yet anyway. He has done a great job in keeping his reservations from his son in any case. That had become a little difficult this very day when Jim got home from school only to immediately exclaim about how the one other classmate of his with no Words had them Manifest in the middle of class. 

“Dad! Dad, George got his Words!” Jim had practically screeched upon entering the house. His son’s glowing face made him proud of his son’s kind nature, if a little wary for Jim’s future in Gotham.

He tried to show just as much excitement as Jim seemed to feel. “Well, that is great for George! Were they Clear or Obscure?”

“Obscure! He said that he thinks, like, one hundred people have said his Words to him just today.” Jim snorted happily at his father. Any Words were good Words, even those Obscure.

Gordon chuckled briefly for Jim’s benefit, but had to voice his thoughts. “Did he show them to anyone in class?” 

“No, but he said he might have to show them because they are _so_ Obscure. He said he’d never find his Soulmate otherwise, especially if he answered them just as bad!” Jim had explained.

“Good.” Gordon sighed. “Good. I know I have told you about how private your Words are. I’m glad George’s parents taught him the same.” Gordon had heard too many cautionary tales of False Conversations to give any man a grave sense of privacy concerning Words.

“If I even get my Words, I’ll keep them super-secret,” Jim had promised grumpily before running upstairs to put his school things away. Gordon guessed that Jim would have to find out for himself that the wait was worth it. Gordon looked down to his sleeve that covered his own Widow Words, turned black these past years. The pain never went away. Gordon hoped with the fervency of a parent that Jim would never have to find out for himself what black Words could do to a soul. 

Later that night, he received a call from the office about some last minute files he needed to sign for a deposition scheduled early the next morning. Deciding to make an outing of it, he called up to Jim to see how he felt about a late night ice cream run. Gordon chuckled to himself as he heard the whoop and stampede that was coming down the stairs in answer to his question.

Gordon bundled himself and Jim into the car and started for the DA’s office. Neither of them saw the car running the red light at their intersection before it rammed into them. 

Jim was stuck sitting next to his unresponsive father for the next hour. When Jim was finally pulled from the wreck, he barely noticed. Someone was holding his had though and was trying to get his attention. Jim slowly blinked up to a police officer. The police officer had a kind expression on his face. “I know it seems like you will be stuck in this darkness and you must be very scared.” The officer gave Jim a quick squeeze of his hand, “Just remember that there will be light.”

Three years later, late in May, Jim felt the first tickle of the Words on his forearm. Right where his father had his mother’s Words. He kept calm and waited until he was alone to look at the Words, feeling very lucky to have been wearing long-sleeves. He remembered well his father’s advice to keep the Words private. He would honor his father’s wishes.

“Huh,” Jim breathed looking at his bare forearm. “At least they are very Clear.”

  
~  
**The Waynes ******

On a bright day in May, Thomas and Martha Wayne welcomed a healthy baby boy into the world. They were both breathless and ecstatic, counting fingers and toes. They also both almost simultaneously noticed the Words already written across their son’s little forearm. In a light gray script, the Words were barely legible but not impossible to read.

“Well, it cannot be any clearer than that, can it,” Martha whispered rhetorically. Thomas just nods in agreement.

Thomas’ mind instantly turned to the unfortunate car accident involving a certain DA and his newly orphaned son from a few years back. Thomas knew what he had to do now. He had not considered having the Words conversation quite so soon with his wife, especially since he found out they were having a son. It may have been a little presumptuous of him, but Thomas fully expected his son to not receive his Words until a little later in life. Not for little Bruce to be Born Bonded. However, never let it be said that Thomas Wayne shied away from tough subjects, especially with his Soulmate.

“Martha,” Thomas started. Martha was loath to tear her eyes away from the little bundle in her arms but after a few itineration’s of her name, Thomas was able to get her full attention. “Martha, I love you and I love how we found one another. I love our First Conversation.” Thomas began again. “However, and I wish we had been able to have this conversation much later in Bruce’s life, but I must say it now.” Thomas knew he was in real danger of rambling but the patient smile Martha was sporting kept him on track. He gathered his faculties and began for a third time. “There is a very important tradition in the Wayne family concerning our Words. We never help our children find their soulmate before the age of 18. We also never let our children’s Words out if we can possibly help it. The Waynes have always held a high position in Gotham Society and we have been the victims of enough False Conversations to keep our Words very secret, even more than the norm.” He sighed and looked to the treasure resting in his Bonded’s arms. “The fact that Bruce was Born Bonded, and that his Words are as Clear as they are just gives an extra wrinkle to this whole mess.”

“Our _child’s_ Soulwords are not a mess!” Martha instantly defended.

“No, never that,” Thomas agreed calmly, kissing Martha’s damp forehead. “It is just that we will have to be diligent for Bruce’s sake in keeping his Words secret. At least until he can understand for himself the importance of keeping them secret himself.”

Martha’s eyes gravitated to her dozing baby again. “Darling, I do understand. Do you think the Kanes were any less secretive about our Words?” She seemed to perk up suddenly and turned her bright gaze back to Thomas. “Besides, I completely agree that finding one’s Soulmate in your own time works out best for a Pair. Look at us as a shining example,” she gently teased.

Breathing a silent sigh of relief, he kissed Martha again and they both went back to admiring their son. Bruce would meet his Soulmate exactly when he was meant to and not a second before.

  


  
_Chapter 1_

Bruce can’t contain the smile that spreads his mouth listening to his mother and father bicker good naturedly. His mom was giggling while trying to defend her position on the topic. His father was doing a better job at keeping his laughter in but even he couldn’t keep his smile at bay. Despite movie theaters not being the most highbrow of locations, his mom is wearing her tan rain jacket over one of her good navy dresses and his dad and he are both wearing suits.

Laughing at his dad’s more decisive claims about the quality of the show they had just watched, his mom giggled again and continued her argument. “Oh come on, Tom, it wasn’t that bad.” 

As his mom stepped carefully from the curb and into the alley they were taking as a shortcut, his dad glanced back and stated firmly but humorously, “Childish drivel. Movies these days, I don’t know…” 

His mom interrupted his dad equally as firmly, “Well I thought the acting was fine, and the music was lovely.” She gently knocked her shoulder against her son as she asked for his input into their debate. 

Bruce looked up to his mom, and had to admit that he took his dad’s side on the matter. “It was kinda lame.” He added. 

His dad ruffled his hair in thanks for the support but still didn’t let Bruce get away with speaking improperly. “Kinda lame? There’s no such word as kinda.” But his dad grabbed him in a side hug and continued. “It was totally lame.”

His mom tsked and said exasperated “You two, so judgmental.” She looked up from Bruce and cut off her next statement with a gasp.

Both Bruce and his dad halted their movements to gawp at the big tall masked man that was holding a gun threateningly at them.

“What’s up, folks!” The man exclaimed almost irreverently.

His dad slowly released his shoulder and his mom took up the task by grabbing at him.

“Stay calm Bruce,” his dad advised solemnly. 

Bruce didn’t know how his dad and mom were staying so calm. He felt like his lungs were seizing up and he was shaking like a leaf.

His dad’s face was straight as he quickly agreed with the masked man and handed over his wallet.

The masked man moved his aim to his mom. “The necklace.”

His mom had to let go of Bruce in order to get her pearl necklace off. His dad slowly inched his way in front of Bruce and reached his arm in front of his mom.

“It’s okay,” his dad said reassuringly as his mother handed her necklace over. As the masked man was pocketing the pearls, one of the strings broke, sending pearls tinkling to the dirty alleyway.

Then, without warning, the masked man aimed his gun and a loud bang went off. His father let out a loud grunt and knocked into Bruce on his way down. His mom grabbed at him in reflex but Bruce heard another bang and his mom exclaimed as well before releasing Bruce.

Bruce couldn’t understand what was happening. He was gasping in shock at the sight of his mother falling to the ground. He tore his gaze from his mother and stared wide-eyed at the dark empty hole attached to the gun the masked man was holding. Bruce couldn’t focus on anything but that deep well. Slowly the gun was lowered and the dark fathomless eyes of his parent’s attacker replaced the well in his gaze. The man calmly brushed passed Bruce and left him alone there standing above his parents, frozen in horror.

“Mom! _Mom!_ ” Bruce suddenly exclaimed, falling to his knees and shaking his mother’s shoulder. She was staring sightlessly into the distance and didn’t even stir. Bruce then turned and sobbed out “Dad!” Shaking his dad as he did with his mother. His dad’s eyes slowly turned to Bruce and Bruce saw the moment his dad died, looking up at his son. Bruce yanked his bloody hands away from his father’s chest. He was gasping as he slowly turned away from his dad. Bruce’s eyes were fixated on all of the red coating his hands. He kneeled between his parents and an unearthly wail built up in his chest until it was thrown into the cruel Gotham skies. 

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


The Gotham Police Department was bustling with the multitudes of people crowding its cavernous center. Police people booking criminals, criminals complaining loudly, phones ringing off the hook, the general hustle and bustle that is common to GCPD in its daily struggle with Gotham’s recently severe crime spree. Two police people were escorting a particularly troubled man to the cells by his arms when one had to momentarily release him in order to unlock the cell. Seizing his opportunity, the troubled man grabbed the police person’s gun and brought her into a choke hold, the gun aimed at her head. Instantly, all of GCPD drew their weapons and starting yelling at the man to release his hostage. This was the scene that Jim Gordon observed from his desk above the room. The twitching man holding the woman at gun point’s prospects did not look good. Jim knew that he had to act fast or both the woman and the man were in danger of friendly fire.

“Hold your fire,” Jim yelled as he ran down the steps and towards the two. He had to push through many of his coworkers in order to get to the front lines, repeating his words as he went. “I got this.”

Jim placed himself directly in front of the man and tried to reason with him. “Sir? Look at me. Not at them, look at me.” The man was gasping and twitching, clearly not well. Jim gave the man his name and tried to get the man’s name from him. The police person in his grip was staring at Jim with big frightened eyes, but Jim knew he had to focus on the man with the gun.

“I need my pills,” the man ground out, which wasn’t any real surprise to Jim. He quickly agreed, and glancing around he spotted a bottle of aspirin on a desk near him. He grabbed up the bottle and shook it for the man, with the label facing away from him.

“I got your pills right here.” Jim popped open the cap and shook some aspirin into his hand. “Here’s some pills for ya, alright?” Jim reached his hand out to the man, the pills resting in his palm. The man tightened his grip on his hostage, causing her to gasp, and yanked the pills from Jim’s hand. He quickly brought them to his mouth and swallowed them.

Jim saw the moment the man realized that he had been tricked and seized his chance. He jumped forward and grabbed the hand holding the gun, elbowed the man in the face, releasing his hostage. Jim grabbed the man’s shoulder and kneed him in the stomach, bringing him to the ground. He disarmed the weapon and confiscated the bullet that had been cocked. He looked at the rest of the bullpen, a little giddy at the situation. “Sorry guys, didn’t mean to bark at you all like that. Got a little bit carried away.” A few police people were quick to jump in and start punishing the man for his actions. Jim tried to interfere, but Harvey dragged him away before he could.

Harvey stuck a finger in his face and demanded “What the hell do you think you were doing? We had the drop on him.” Jim came up with some witty reply, still a little high on adrenaline. Harvey wasn’t having it though. He got right up into Jim’s face and growled, “You could’ve gotten hurt. Rookie mistake. Next time, shoot the son of a bitch.”  
Jim wasn’t having being called a rookie. He had to defend himself. “If I shoot, that sets everybody off, gunfire every which way...”

Harvey’s voice took on a patronizing tone as he interrupted. “Somebody takes a cop’s gun, you shoot him. That’s basic.” 

Jim rolled his eyes and mentally prepared himself for another disagreement with Harvey. Jim still didn’t know what to think of his partner. He had the experience behind him but Jim couldn’t condone some of Harvey’s methods of investigation and it had already been the source of many arguments between them. On the other hand, Jim truly believed that Harvey was a good guy that had been shaped by the darkness of Gotham and may have been forced to make a few concessions to get the job done. 

Before Jim could start in on another argument, they were interrupted by a police person calling for them to investigate a double homicide at the Theater District. Harvey tried to argue out of it, but it looked like they would have to go.

Jim flipped the unused bullet into his hand and followed the exasperated Harvey out. If Jim only knew how his life would change from this case, he would have prepared himself a little better. He would definitely have worn more accessible sleeves at the very least.

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


The alleyway attached to the Theater District was cordoned off with police tape. The flashing lights of the police cruisers put the alleyway in stark relief as Detectives Jim Gordon and Harvey Bullock made their way into the scene of the crime. GCPD officers hold back a small crowd of gawkers, trying to get a glimpse of what had happened.

Harvey walked directly to Sergeant Tannenbaum, the officer in charge of protecting the scene. Tannenbaum was a short, thick man who looked to have seen a crime like this many times in his career, enough times to be desensitized to the whole affair. He and Bullock exchanged a few barbs but quickly got down to business. There are two bodies on the ground, covered in sheets.

Harvey introduces Jim and asks about the crime.

“Just got here myself.” Tannenbaum states around a piece of gum. “Male, Female, gunshot. Their kid saw the whole thing.” Here he glances over Gordon’s shoulder and that is when the two detectives notice a small child huddled under a police department blanket, his face a mask of tragedy. “Poor bastard hasn’t spoke a word yet.” 

Jim instantly goes to check on the sobbing child while Tannenbaum and Harvey stay with the victims. 

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


As Jim walked closer to the huddled figure he felt a strange awareness growing out from his chest and flowing towards his extremities. He was becoming more and more aware of his forearm and what was laying there, just waiting to be acknowledged. Jim was sweating and shaky, his heart pumping faster than usual. He started to get a sinking feeling, but he had to be sure. He walked up to the huddled child and gave his standard introduction.

“My name’s James Gordon.” He began with the kindest voice he could manage. The boy’s mouth opened and his eyes went wide, but he didn’t look up or speak. “I’m a detective. What’s your name?” He couldn’t help but ask, even though he was starting to hope for the opposite of his suspicions. To have an Initial Conversation at the crime scene of dead parents… It didn’t matter though, because the boy only sniffled and continued to shake while keeping his gaze on the ground. Jim was sympathetic as he continued, “It’s okay. You don’t have to talk.” He couldn’t prevent himself from trying to get a better look at the kid’s face, however.

Jim tore his gaze away from the shivering child and glanced surreptitiously back at where his partner was having a furtive conversation with Sergeant Tannenbaum. He did not want any interruptions, nor did he want witnesses. “Bruce,” a soft voice came from behind him. Jim let out a long breath as he slowly turned his head to the kid. His cheeks and nose were red, his eyes glossy from crying and he was still wrapped in the blanket. However, his voice was clear, if a little shaky. “My-my name is Bruce Wayne.”

Jim’s legs couldn’t keep him upright anymore, so he crouched down in front of the boy… in front of Bruce. Jim could already feel the Bond forming, his Words filling in, the NAB giving him a sudden feeling of grief so deep it nearly knocked him to the ground. Bruce was hurting so bad right now and Jim wanted nothing more than to never let Bruce go through such a tragedy again. So, Jim gathered his strength, hoping Bruce could draw a little of his resolve just as Jim drew from Bruce, and did his best to comfort the one who has already become the most important person in his life. Jim’s instincts were yelling at him to protect Bruce, and to avenge his hurts. To do that, Jim needed to pull the Detective in him to the forefront and do the job he came to this godforsaken alleyway to do.

Staring up into the glistening depths of Bruce’s eyes, Jim spoke softly, “Can you tell me what happened, Bruce?” Saying the name out loud practically made Jim’s heart soar. Bruce’s face suddenly scrunched up and he started to cry in earnest. Bruce tried to hide his face in his blanket, but Jim could still sense the horror and sorrow Bruce was feeling. Jim wanted to gather his Bonded into his arms, but he had to act as he would with any other traumatized child he came across. So, he settled on to the step next to Bruce and entwined his hands together to keep them in control. All he knew was that he had to comfort Bruce somehow, and he also felt a distinct urge to give a little of himself to Bruce.

“When I was about your age, a drunk driver hit our car. Killed my dad. I was right next to him.” Each statement was said quietly but, at the last one, Jims saw Bruce slowly raise his head a little and he could actually sense Bruce start to accept their connection. Jim leaned in and whispered intimately into Bruce’s ear. “I know how you feel right now.” The double meaning more than clear to both of them. Bruce’s trembling gaze lifted to meet Jim’s again. “And I promise you, however dark and scary the world might be right now, there will be light.” The light for Jim was right in front of him. _“There will be light, Bruce._ ” Jim repeated and tried to send warm feelings to Bruce as proof.

As Bruce was describing the events leading up to his parent’s death, Jim’s protectiveness was growing and his need for vengeance couldn’t be held back. “ _I should’ve done something!_ ” Bruce suddenly keened, in mirror of Jim’s thoughts. “But I was too scared.”

Jim was quick to jump in on that, knowing how deeply Bruce was blaming himself. “There was nothing you could’ve done to stop what happened. But there is something we can do now.” Bruce looked up again at that. “We can be strong.” Jim barely noticed his referring to them in the collective. “Be strong,” Jim emphasized. “I promise you, I will find the man who did this.” The man who took his Bonded parents’ lives before he could even meet them. The man who led to their Initial Conversation being much earlier than either needed, to it following such a tragic event. The man who did this to Bruce, to them.

Bruce and Jim were locked in each other’s eyes when there came a cry from Tannenbaum. They tore their eyes from each other reluctantly and saw a dapperly dressed older gentleman ducking under the police tape. Bruce gasped and threw the blankets from his shoulders. He ran into the older man’s arms and flung himself around him. Jim had a brief surge of jealous protectiveness but quickly squashed it. Bruce loved this man, Jim could feel it. He walked up to the hugging pair and he introduced himself to the gentleman. “James Gordon.” The man’s eyes widened in recognition then softened in turn.

“Alfred Pennyworth,” the man introduced while his eyes darted from Jim to Bruce and settled questioningly but significantly on Jim. 

Jim nodded in acknowledgment of the unasked question in Mr. Pennyworth’s eyes. “We’re gonna get the guy who did this, sir.” He glanced around to the police people surrounding them and shook his head. Alfred gave his own acknowledging nod.

“New boy, are ya?” Alfred suddenly asked. Jim admitted the veracity of that. “Good luck, mate,” Alfred said almost disdainfully before gathering Bruce and guiding him away from the crime scene. Jim could hear Mr. Pennyworth giving Bruce advice not to look back and he resented that a little. Jim could find Bruce again anywhere now that he knew he was in the city, and he could feel Bruce wherever he went, but he still wished he could’ve had one last look at Bruce’s face before the night was over. 

Harvey suddenly walked up to him and interrupted his reverie. “Forensics have got the scene. Let’s go get coffee.”

Jim reluctantly agreed and they head to a nearby diner. As they move to sit at the counter, Jim can’t help but asking, “Shouldn’t we be there when they move my… the bodies?” Jim hopes his little slip will go unnoticed.

Harvey snidely returns with, “Why? Listen hot-shit, in the future, don’t start talking to witnesses until I say so.”

“What’s your problem?” Jim asked, now biased to the fact that whatever was bugging Harvey couldn’t hold a candle to Jim’s difficulties at that moment.

“My problem is that you just caught us a gigantic, flaming ball of crap,” Harvey grumbled. Jim could agree that the description was apt for the whole situation they were in, but he didn’t really see what Harvey was specifically talking about since he didn’t know Jim had very recently found his Bonded in a young Bruce Wayne.

“You never heard of Thomas and Martha Wayne?” Harvey asked.

Jim had heard of them, but he never made the connection… Maybe he hadn’t wanted to. “Yeah, sure, the Wayne Foundation.”

“Yeah, two of the richest and most powerful people in Gotham.” Harvey started to mix the contents of his flask into the coffee cup a waitress put in front of him. “You can’t even begin to imagine the pressure we don’t close this thing quick.”

“So let’s close it quick.” Jim was all for closing this investigation as quick as possible. He needed to be able to provide for Bruce, and he was quickly realizing Bruce didn’t need, and would possibly never need, monetary support. So, Jim figured he would focus on what he could do for Bruce-- namely finding their parent’s murderer… Bruce’s parents’ murderer.

“Yeah, right. This is a random street robbery Holmes. Perp could be any one of ten thousand mopes out there.”

Harvey sounded distinctly defeatist but Jim was having none of that. He had been in the army and he would not let his Bonded down. “So it’s a tough case, but we took the call. It’s our case.” And Jim wouldn’t let any other person take it from him.

“Aw crap.” Harvey groaned at the sound of the bell tinkling open behind Jim. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Montoya and Allen.” This last was in reaction to a woman in her early 30s, Latina, tightly wound, and a man, also in his 30s, African-American, suave, calm and cool, entering the diner. “Up late, girls?” 

The man rolls his eyes as he greets Harvey. Harvey then turns to Jim and introduces the two as members of the Major Crimes Unit. “My new partner, Jim Gordon.” Harvey finishes.

“Nice to meet you.” Jim greets back. 

Allen nods. Montoya just studies him coldly before saying, “You’re on the Waynes huh. Terrible thing. Any leads?”

“We just got started.” Harvey sipped his coffee.

“Tough case.” Montoya returned.

There was a slightly awkward beat before Allen broke in. “I’ll be straight. You want us to take it off your hands?”

Jim’s shock at the request quickly turns to possessiveness. “No, no, no, no, no. This is m— our—“

“-- Hold on, rook.” Harvey quickly cuts him off. He turns to Allen, “Why you want it? You got a lead?”

Allen shakes his head, “Nah. Just need the press action.”

Jim doesn’t care how new the Unit was, or how much Major Crimes needed a big case, this one was his. He was about to say as much when Harvey holds up a finger to shush him. Harvey clearly feigns reluctance, “I don’t know...”

“Come on, Bullock. You know you’re scared of this case. Do the right thing for once,” Montoya argued.

The words touch a nerve in Harvey that he took umbrage with. “For once? Where the hell you get the nerve to say that to me? You can kiss my ass.” 

Allen backs them both out both figuratively and verbally before he starts to lead his partner towards a table on the other side of the diner.

Harvey’s anger overrides his better judgment and he calls to their retreating backs, “You know, I almost gave it to you. But you couldn’t help yourself, could you? You got to be disrespectful. I’ll give this case to Satan before I give it to you jackasses.” 

Allen raises his eyebrows and points at the detectives in an amiable surrender. “Oh-kay Harvey. Stay frosty. Good luck.”

Montoya gives both men a cold stare as she and Allen sit. 

Harvey quickly continues to grumble into his spiked coffee. “Buncha self-righteous do gooders. Like they’re such freaking angels? Please.”

While Jim is glad that Harvey sent them running, he can’t help but feel some sense of foreboding concerning Harvey’s priorities. It was Harvey’s pride that kept this case. Not because it was the right thing to do and not because Jim had clearly wanted to keep the case. Harvey had no way to know the exact reasons for Jim’s furor for investigating and closing this particular case, but Jim’s opinion should matter just a little…

On the other hand, Jim knew that if Harvey had given the case away, Jim would have still done his own investigation on the side. Damn jurisdiction and damn proper investigating channels. He had promised Bruce…. That thought was a little sobering. Jim usually saw himself as a very by-the-book cop. With that thought Jim knew he really had to have a chat with Bruce about their Bond and the NAB effects Jim was getting off of Bruce. Bruce was so grief-stricken Jim was having a hard time focusing on anything else. 

Back in the GCPD with Mayor Aubrey James making promises on TV to catch the Wayne killers, and Captain Sarah Essen telling Harvey and him to close the case as soon as possible, Jim couldn’t block off Bruce’s emotions. Even when Harvey booted Jim out of Captain Essen’s office, clearly arguing about Jim, Jim could barely keep up the pretense of following the argument. Though, when Harvey mentioned his father, Jim instinctively grasped his forearm where his Words rested and where is father had had his mother’s Words. He played that off with a smart ass remark to Harvey. They spent a good portion of the day rousting muggers and trying to find any witnesses to the Wayne murders, with no luck whatsoever. Even the resident forensics expert, Edward Nygma, had no luck identifying the weapon used in the murders. However, something Bruce said matched up with the findings on the bullet. It had to be a professional contract killer, or somebody with a personal vendetta against their parents. Harvey seemed skeptical when Jim disclosed his thought process, but Harvey did have a last resort lead they could follow. 

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


Fish Mooney’s Golden Age Nite Club seemed to Jim to be a dead end. All it got them was some flirting in for Harvey and a further look into the darkness that is perpetuated in Gotham’s criminal underground for Jim. Jim didn’t like the fact that any criminal activities could be so blithely ignored by the Police Force. One thing Jim did get from the meeting, however, was that Fish Mooney was someone to look out for and that she had taken notice of Jim in turn. Not something he would wish on anyone, he was sure. 

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


The whole finding his bonded, finding their parents murdered, finding tensions between the GCPD and the Major Crimes Unit, finding his partner did not want to be his partner, and finally finding the vast leeway given to criminals, all distracted Jim from who was waiting for him at home.

Jim met Barbara Kean in Chicago, where he was a lowly beat cop. They had met at one of Barbara’s showings and hit it off immediately. She was everything he could have wanted for in a girlfriend. Beautiful, sophisticated, smart, sassy, funny. She obviously liked him as well. They both agreed to meet again for dinner to get to know one another better. It was at that dinner that Jim admitted that, while he wasn’t technically WC, he was still set on being there one hundred percent after he had his Initial Conversation. “I am just so much older than my bonded,” Jim confessed earnestly. “I would like to think that he wouldn’t want me to be lonely in the meantime.”

“ _He?_ ” Barbara was quick to jump on that. “So, your Words must be pretty clear…”

Jim ducked his head and smiled, “Yeah.”

Barbara was quiet for a while, sliding her finger along the rim of her wine glass. She finally made a little humming noise and looked up to Jim with a very direct gaze. “I’m still Manifest.”

Jim was shocked at that confession but his sympathetic nature quickly overrode that. He reached out and grabbed the hand that Barbara was using to caress her glass. “I don’t know what to say except for trite things you have probably heard plenty.”

“You’re right,” Barbara put her hand over Jim’s and bit her lip, her eyes a little glossy from emotion. “I will fill in all the trite sayings mentally on your behalf.”

Jim laughed at that. This woman was something else. Jim’s kind heart could not let this woman be lonely anymore if he could help it. “If you don’t mind, you can Wait with me for my Conversation.”

Barbara looked into Jim’s eyes and could see how sincere and shy those blue orbs were. She smiled broadly at him. “I think I would like that.”

And the rest was history. They quickly moved in together and became as close as unBonded couples could be. The only thing Jim kept from Barbara were his Words. He just couldn’t bear show her until his Bonded and he had their Initial Conversation first. It didn’t seem fair to share the Words until after his Bonded had said them.

Now, in the present, Jim has had his Initial Conversation and he cannot begin to conceive of how to tell Barbara. They had been Waiting together for just over two years… not nearly the amount of time they thought they would have. His Bonded was only twelve years old, for God’s sake!

Standing in front of the wall to wall picture windows in Barbara’s Penthouse apartment, looking at Gotham’s night life from above, Jim was again at a loss for what to do. Hearing a noise behind him, Jim turned around and saw Barbara enter from her bedroom looking gorgeous in a cocktail dress. “Wow,” is all Jim can say. Barbara was one of those women who had the gift and burden of radiant grace. All her life, she’s been coveted, pursued. For her, Jim is a protector - honest and strong. 

“Look at you in your excellent suit.” She returned genially. She grabbed at his lapels and slipped in closer. “You know I’m so happy you don’t have to wear that silly uniform anymore.” 

Jim was momentarily distracted by her perfume, proximity, and words. “You told me it looked good.”

Barbara scrunched up her face in a sly smile and leaned in even closer to whisper in Jim’s ear. “I lied.” She kissed his cheek before she moved passed him to grab her shoes. “You ready to rock ‘n roll?”

“Uh…” The art showing that had been on their agenda for tonight had completely slipped his mind. “Barbara, I’m beat and there is something I have to tell you. Do we really have to go to this thing?”

Barbara was very gracious about agreeing to stay in, Jim almost felt even more guilty for what he was going to have to tell her.

Barbara saw his indecision and sat next to him on the couch. “Talk to me.”

“ _I had my Initial Conversation today._ ” There. He had said it. Now if only he could make eye contact with Barbara he wouldn’t feel like such a coward.

Her hand slowly slipped from where it had been resting on his arm. “Oh.” She sat in silence next to him and he let her gather her thoughts. “Who… How did it… Where…” Barbara couldn’t figure out how to ask her questions.

“That about covers them all,” Jim said, trying to inject a little humor into the conversation. Looking at Barbara’s concerned face, he could see it fell flat. “You know I’m fourteen years older than my Bonded. I did not expect to meet him today, of all days…” Jim took a big breath and continued. “You know how I told you on the phone earlier that I got the Wayne murder case?” He looked to Barbara and she just nodded, remaining silent. “I had my Initial Conversation at the crime scene.” Jim slowly started rolling up his sleeve and he began peeling off the skin colored sticker from over his Words. This would actually be the first time he would see them since they were spoken by Bruce. He and Barbara both looked at the bared forearm with the words written in neat script near the elbow. It had filled in to a gray darker than it had been his whole life. Barbara remained quiet for a long while, just looking at Jim’s Words. She finally broke her silence with a stiff voice.

“Did you know your Bonded was in Gotham? Did you know who he was?”

Quick to dispel that train of thought, Jim was emphatic. “No! No, I only started suspecting that my Bonded might be part of that Wayne family. I never looked into their personal affairs and I tried to stay away from any news concerning them. You know how I felt about Waiting for my Bonded to be old enough.”

Biting her lip, Barbara finally looked up at Jim, a smile on her face but her eyebrows furrowed. “I believe you Jim. I am happy for you and your Bonded and I’m so sorry about how your Initial Conversation came about. I just wish…” Barbara cut herself off and looked away, her shoulder hunching. 

“I know, Barbara. I ‘just wish’ as well.” Jim scooted closer to Barbara and put his arm around her, drawing her in. “Bruce is so young still. We haven’t even had any discussions about our future. His butler came and whisked him away before we could even set up a time to meet up… Not only that, but we are getting nowhere on my p—, I mean, on the Wayne Case. I made a promise to Bruce and I can’t deliver on it. Now I feel like a failure Bonded and a fraud detective.”

“But you’re not either of those.” Barbara defended.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m out of my depth.”

Barbara brushed her hand along his shoulder, “Hey. I very much doubt you’re out of your depth, but even if you are, you know how to swim, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do.”

“So _swim._ ”

Sighing, Jim looked at the fireplace. “Swim, you’re right.”

Familiar with Jim’s harshness of himself, Barbara gives him a consoling kiss. “Bruce is so lucky to have you.” Barbara blurted suddenly. Jim gave her a guilty look, but she was quick to follow with, “And I am so sorry about your parents. I should’ve said before.” Jim just nodded, suddenly feeling a little choked up. Barbara brought her other arm around and gathered Jim into a warm embrace. They would figure it all out. They would have to. And Barbara would keep this sweet man in her life as long as she could, however she could have him.

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


Later that night found them entwined on the couch. A buzzing woke Jim up, and he uncurled from Barbara to pick up his mobile phone. Jim grumpily opened it but, before he could say anything, Harvey’s voice was coming in from the speaker. “I got a lead. Meet me at Fourth and Grundy in an hour.” There was raucous noise in the background.

“I’m on my way.” Jim finished untangling with Barbara and placed a blanket over her. He was still wearing his suit from earlier so he just had to put his shoes on and head out the door. 

It was the early hours of the day, the skies gray but the sun shining through where it could. Jim met up with Harvey on a street of tenement apartments, Harvey drinking from his flask even at this early hour.

“Hey,” Harvey greeted, swaying a little.

“You alright?” Jim asked.

Slurring obviously, Harvey tried to deny it but Jim was having none of it. However, Harvey distracted Jim by stating, “Fish Mooney heard from one of her fences, guy tried to sell him an antique four-strand pearl necklace with gold settings, one strand broken.” The more Harvey spoke, the closer he creeped, and the more pronounced his breath was.

Jim held his ground and questioned, “Like my— Like Martha Wayne was wearing?” He really needed to get a handle on that…

“Guy’s name is Mario Pepper,” was all Harvey said before moving around Jim to the car.

What followed was a very uncomfortable talk with Pepper, a large heavey-set man, with his wife and daughter as witnesses. It seemed to be another dead end until Jim and Harvey expressed their intention to search Pepper’s apartment. That was when the man had bolted out the fire escape, forcing Jim to give pursuit. Jim was quick to catch up on the roof top where Pepper then commenced to fire upon him. Jim tried to reason with Pepper and warn him but Pepper kept running. Jim chased Pepper down another fire escape and through a workhouse, down another set of stares, through a kitchen, and down even more stairs, shouting the whole time for people to get out of his way. When Jim ended up in an alleyway, he pulled his gun and started inching down the way. With a great cry, Pepper jumped around a corner and slashed at Jim with a butcher knife. Jim dodged just in time to avoid serious injury but lost his gun. They grappled desperately with one another until Pepper threw Jim to the ground and started to advance upon him. Jim resolves himself for what would come next but Pepper suddenly jerked back with the sound of a bang, his chest filling with red. He falls back and Jim flips to his stomach, seeing Harvey with his gun raised. All he can think of to say is, “Thanks.”

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


It is only as Jim is sitting in the Pepper’s apartment, getting his hand wrapped up that he notices the gut-deep worry that is coming through the NAB. The sorrow had been such a pervasive and all-encompassing feeling this past day and half that Jim had not noticed when it had turned to an equally strong sense of worry. Bruce must have felt Jim’s rush of adrenaline, fear, and eventual wound. The poor boy had to be frantic by now.

Jim is distracted from sending Bruce reassuring feelings when a forensics’ specialist suddenly exclaimed about finding Martha’s pearl necklace. Harvey seem ecstatic about it, and the rest of the GCPD was very congratulatory when they got back to the bullpen. Jim’s relief at finding the Wayne murderer could not be overstated. He was grinning from ear-to-ear because he was so glad to have good news for Bruce. Captain Essen even told them they would be on the front page of the Gotham Gazette the next day.

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


With the processing of evidence against Pepper, the photoshoot for the Gazette, and the celebratory drinks, Jim had to spend another night without seeing Bruce. He had been able to send enough reassuring feelings towards Bruce that the boy’s worry had eventually subsided (though it did not fully disappear), only for Bruce’s grief to come back to its previous levels. While Jim was not looking forward to the funeral scheduled, he did dearly want to see Bruce. They could both use the reinforcement of their Bond. The strain of being apart was getting disruptive.

At the Gotham Cemetery, a vast rolling meadow of gravestones is the final resting place of Martha and Thomas Wayne, where they were to be buried together. As the coffins are lowered into their grave, a gospel singer starts off on a soulful song.

In the center of attention, Bruce is standing pale and wraithlike, his burning eyes fixed on his parent’s coffins. Mr. Pennyworth next to him has to pull Bruce away when the time comes for the procession to leave.

Jim, who had been standing with Harvey near the back waits for Bruce to approach him. Bruce’s grief and his own grief had compounded on each other, creating a negative feedback loop that seemed to spiral them both further into depression. However, as Bruce stands before him, Jim cannot help but feel that small ray of light that centered on his Bond with Bruce brighten his soul.

“You kept your promise,” are the first words Bruce speaks to Jim since their Initial Conversation. In Jim’s opinion, there could be few more heartening ones. Bruce is blinking to keep back tears and his voice has a slight tremble, but Jim knows that nobody else can tell how cut-up Bruce is at that moment. All they would see is a young man holding up maturely in a tragic situation. Bruce meets Jim’s eyes briefly and states, “Thank you.”

Jim nods at Bruce, sending comfort as he apologizes for Pepper not going to trial.

“-‘s, That’s okay.” Bruce stutters out, his composure in dire risk of failing. His eyes dart to Harvey standing behind Jim before he reaches out his hand to shake.

Jim, grateful for even that much, grasps it tightly and lets himself have just a few moments to bask in the connection. Those few moments are all he gets before Bruce abruptly releases Jim’s hand and walks around him, Pennyworth following close behind. Jim turns to watch him go and feels regretful because that brief connection may be the last for who knows how long. Jim doesn’t know if it would be better to not add the stresses of a Bonded’s attentions to Bruce’s trials at the current time, or not.

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


Later that night, Jim finds Barbara gazing out at the city from her apartment window. He pours himself and her a drink, figuring they both could use one. Yet when Jim hands Barbara her glass, she seems to stiffen and withdraw from him.

“Barbara?” Jim asks. “What’s wrong?”

She seems to brace herself before she asks in a low voice, “Did you frame Mario Pepper?”

Grasping Barbara’s arm and turning her so he can see her eyes, Jim can see the question was in earnest. “No,” he asserts calmly. 

“I knew it,” Barbara scoffs delicately and turns back to the window, taking a sip from her glass.

As like many instances in Jim’s past, and most probably for the rest of his life, Jim could not let things like that go. However, when questioned about her meaning, Barbara was insistent that it didn’t matter. Jim had plenty of practice to know when Barbara was lying and he called her on it. That was when Barbara confessed about the visit from Montoya, the agent from Major Crimes he met in that diner the day of his Bonded parent’s murder.

“I told her she had it all wrong, but she is convinced.” Barbara sighed. “I also let her infer that the rumor about our engagement was true.” At this, Barbara turns to Jim and places a hand on his shoulder. “I know we discussed keeping our true relationship secret to protect your Bond with Bruce until he gets older, but are you sure it is the right move? I can find some other way to get my parents off my case, I am sure.”

Exhaling loudly, Jim covered Barbara’s hand with his own. “I’m sure. Bruce is a very important person, the head of Wayne Enterprises, not only that but he is a young man. And with how dangerous my job can get I don’t want either of us to be used against the other until we can both handle it.” He looked earnestly into Barbara’s sweet gaze and said, “I cannot thank you enough for agreeing to this farce. I know it can’t be easy and I love the kind person I get to keep as my best friend. Helping you with your parent is a small price to pay.”

That was the end of the conversation for Jim and Barbara, but Jim still had one person to speak to before he could fully let it lie.

Bright and early the next day found Montoya making her way to work. Jim was able to call her attention and she stopped to wait for him.

“What’s your evidence that Pepper was framed,” Jim opened with, no intention of beating around the bush. 

Montoya expressed regret for revealing the information to Barbara, but refused to give her sources away. She did seem very convinced that Jim was guilty in the alleged framing. It really got his temper going. He wasn’t crooked, and if Pepper was framed, Jim would find out for himself. He had some investigating to do. He couldn’t bear it if he had to tell Bruce their parent’s killer was still out there.

That thought was what led him straight to the Pepper apartment. The only reason he was even admitted into their apartment again was Jim’s referencing Pepper’s innocence to Mrs. Pepper.

“If your husband didn’t kill the Waynes, how did he come to possess the necklace?” Jim questioned directly.

Mrs. Pepper was clearly upset when she threw out her accusations against him, but she did seem genuine. She was sure Pepper had never killed anybody. 

Thrown for a loop, Jim asked to see Pepper’s shoes. He could remember everything Bruce had ever said to him and Pepper’s shoes could make or break Mrs. Pepper’s claims of her husband’s innocence. Sure enough, none of them fit the description Bruce gave of their parent’s murderer. 

Back in the GCPD, Harvey was very skeptical of the whole thing when Jim gave him a brief overview of his findings. Insistent, Jim stated that Mooney, who works for Falcone, could’ve set the whole thing up. “Maybe Falcone wanted the Waynes killed.”

“ _Whoa_ , wait, wait.” Harvey was suddenly in his face. “Why would such a nutty idea even enter your head?”

That is when Jim brought up Montoya from MCU. Harvey did not see the strength of that evidence.

Jim was hoping not to have to use the shoes evidence, but he wasn’t going to lose any advantage he could get for Harvey to agree to help him investigate.

“Shiny shoes. Mother of God.” With that, Harvey threw down his pencil and gave Jim his full attention. “Shiny shoes. Just suppose for a moment, just suppose Pepper was innocent. _I killed him_.”

“ _We_ killed him,” Jim calmly interjected.

“We killed him,” Harvey conceded. “We'd lose our jobs at the very least. The case is closed. Forget about it.”

No argument Jim could bring up would sway Harvey from his conviction to let sleeping dogs lie.

So, Jim had to find out the truth directly from the source. That is what led Jim to walking into The Golden Age Nite Club for the second time in a week. The little weasel that he saw beating a man with a bat was sitting at the bar. Oswald something, Jim recalled. When the man jumped up, Jim tried to send him to get Fish Mooney. He needed to talk to her if he was ever to look Bruce in the eye again.

When Oswald starting asking too many questions, Jim dodged around him and went looking for Mooney on his own. When he found her lounging in an office, he got right to the point. “Day I met you, when I was out with your boys, what did you and Harvey talk about?”

Mooney smirked and queried, “Shouldn’t you ask Harvey? He’s your partner.”

“I’m afraid he might lie.” Jim stated honestly.

“Hmm, he might.” Her eyes never left Jim’s face, but his instincts from his days in the army and as a beat cop were still sharp. He glanced behind him at the two goons entering as Mooney continued, “and you think I will tell you the truth?”

Letting out a quiet sigh, Jim stated, “You just did,” and he turned to leave.

“James, wait.” Mooney commanded, standing and rounding her desk, coming closer to him. “You have a little danger in your eye. I wonder what you plan to do with that.”

Jim didn’t back down, “You'll have to wait and see.”

Mooney’s voice came from behind him as he turned to go, “I hate surprises.”

That seemed to be the que for the two goons that Jim sensed enter in the middle of their conversation. They all started brawling, two against one, or three as Jim found out the hard way with a sharp pain to the back of his head, then darkness.

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


A pervading sense of dread and frantic worry brought Jim to dizzy awareness. His ankles here in a harsh grasp and he was being dragged along the ground. The more Jim tried to focus on his surroundings, the more the inner turmoil coming from the NAB came into focus. He tried to send some reassurances, but he couldn’t tell if it went through. He was a little distracted by the hanging carcasses flashing by his blurry vision as he was dragged along.

“Wait!” Jim called frantically, “Wait, wait!”

Butch Gilzean came into view and said menacingly, “Shut up,” before he introduced a foot to Jim’s face, and darkness came again.

It was Gilzean’s voice Jim became conscious of the second time around. He was arguing with someone about something…

“Hey, Butch.” _Jim knew that voice_! Harvey was here! He would make it all better. Harvey started arguing with Gilzean who was saying real hurtful things. Harvey eventually had to resort to “Let me talk to Fish.” Harvey walked away with Gilzean’s phone, presumably talking to Mooney.

Jim was a little distracted by the frustrated feeling the most recent set of reassurances he tried to send over the NAB garnered. Bruce was starting to feel spirited … good for him! These new encouraging thoughts and humorous feelings seemed to send Bruce further into irritation. The blood was really rushing to Jim’s face…

Suddenly, Harvey was in front of him. “Hey, how you doing?”

“I’m good,” Harvey replied with an almost gentle voice. “We’re going home.”

Jim could not be more ecstatic. Home! _To Bruce_! Jim couldn’t wait. Except now Harvey was on the ground below Jim’s hanging head and he was all confused.

By the time Harvey was strung up and dangling next to him on a meat hook, Jim had become a little more aware of his surroundings. Enough to answer soberly when Harvey asked, “How you doing?”

“Been better. Thanks for trying to help.” They didn’t both need to go down for Jim’s rashness, but he was morbidly glad for the company.

“Wish I hadn’t.” Came Harvey’s sardonic reply. “Hey Butch!” Harvey suddenly called out.

“Save your breath.” Gilzean sauntered up to the two hanging detectives. “If it was up to me, you'd get a bullet in the head and a decent funeral. But,” Gilzean shrugs, “Fish has her ways.” He suddenly turns and yells, “Yo, Franky! Showtime.”

Jim and Harvey were both starting to feel a little stressed at the sight of the huge man with the grotesque spray guard and apron walking towards them when the large rolling doors of the slaughterhouse suddenly opened to reveal multiple men with guns entering in formation, shooting as they went. Mooney’s men tried to retaliate, but their surprise had rendered them ineffectual.

As the last man standing, and with hands raised in surrender, Gilzean introduced an older leonine gentleman that came forward to stand before them. “Don Falcone.”

Falcone looked Gilzean over mildly. “Forgive me, young man, I forget what your name is. Or perhaps I never knew it.”

“Gilzean, sir.”

“Gilzean. Tell Miss Mooney she's too impetuous. If she wants to kill policemen, she has to ask permission.”

“Yes, sir.”

Falcone then approached where Harvey and Jim were hanging, gave them a pointed look before walking away. “There are rules. Cut them down.”

What followed for Jim was an almost unreal conversation with Don Falcone, limping through a damp and beaten down warehouse. “It's good to meet you at last, James. I knew your father very well. The best DA this city ever had. He and I understood each other. There was respect. Friendship, even.”

“Friendship?” Jim was skeptical.

“Trust me, that's the only reason you're alive now. Blood doesn't lie. I know that when you leave here, you'll do the right thing.”

“I will.” No matter how Don Falcone claimed to be a friend of his late father, Jim would stand by the memory of his father in his own way. “I'll tell what I know.”

“Which is what?” Falcone’s face held an odd sort of humor.

“I know that you own the police department, probably the mayor too. And I was sure that you had the Waynes killed. But if you did, you wouldn't risk letting me live, would you? Then again, how did Fish Mooney come to have Martha Wayne's necklace?” A thought came to Jim’s mind. “A replica?” 

“Yes.”

“But if you didn't have them killed, why frame Mario Pepper? Or are you covering up for somebody else?” Covering up for the murder of their parents. 

“Who knows who killed the Waynes? Some lowlife. We needed a culprit before the funeral. Pepper was sacrificed so that the people of Gotham would see swift justice done. So they can feel safe and secure.”

“And that matters so much to you.”

“Of course. I'm a businessman. You can't have organized crime without law and order. I love this city, and I see it going to hell. But I won't let it fall apart without a fight.” All humor had left Falcone’s face by then.

“You make a life of crime sound very noble.”

“You have a hard head, James, just like your father. Don't be self-righteous. Don't be arrogant.”

“You want me to keep quiet about all this.”

“Gotham is on a knife edge. What do you suppose bringing down city hall and the police force will do? Even if you could. Would it make things better?” That gave Jim pause, and gave enough time for Falcone to pat his cheek and leave Jim with his thoughts.

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


Dawn found Jim and Harvey driving to a pier, the gray horizon their view out the windshield with seabirds cawing out their windows.

Both a little shell-shocked still, Harvey was the one to break the silence as he parked the car. “Lookit, Jim.”

“I'm listening.”

“I wasn't being honest with you. But you weren't ready for the truth.” 

Jim knew what Harvey was getting at. “You didn't tell me because you were ashamed.” Harvey abruptly got out of the car and headed toward the trunk. Jim got out and slammed his door. “Why are we stopping here?”

That is when Jim heard the voice coming from the trunk. “No, please. Please, I beg of you.” It was that Oswald guy from Mooney’s Club.

“ _Shut up_!” Harvey yelled at Oswald before turning to Jim. “This is the fool that snitched to Montoya and Allen. Falcone wants you to walk him to the end of that pier and put a bullet in his head. Then everybody knows you're with the program.”

“And if I don't?” Jim was all for any option that would keep Bruce’s Bonded from being a murderer and mob patsy.

“Then I'm supposed to take you out and him too.” Then again, he wanted to keep Bruce from Widow’s Words for as long as he can possibly help it. However likely that was to happen with Jim’s job, leaving Bruce with Black Ink, this sniveling man in the trunk was not the righteous cause that would at least lead Bruce to forgiving him.

“Here's the thing, Jim, I like you. I might not have the stomach to do it, but I'll try. Because if I don't, someone will get to you quick enough. Then they're gonna get to me, probably Barbara as well. Who knows what you told her.”

“I told her _nothing_.” This was getting out of hand! Now Jim’s closest friend was being threatened…

“You think Falcone cares? Come on, you've killed people before.”

“That was war!” And he was still Waiting then.

“This is war! We're at war with scumbags like him. Sometimes in a war, you gotta do a bad thing to do good, right? So, do you do this bad thing, or do you die and maybe your girl dies? I might be lackadaisical, hmm? But that's not a tough call.” With those disheartening words, Harvey produced a red cloth wrapped object.

The thing was, Jim could tell that Harvey was really worried and sympathetic to the spot he was putting Jim in. Harvey likely knew far better than Jim the influence the mob had to follow through on all the threats Harvey had just lined up. Not the mention the unknown harm Jim’s death would cause to a particular grieving boy in Gotham. Jim saw no other choice. He hauled the shivering man out of the trunk and forced him to his feet. Jim reached back and grabbed the hateful red object and growled, “Walk.” The man was quick to give all sorts of pleas and promises as he limped down the pier, but Jim had to stand firm. “Shut up! Turn around.” Jim grabbed the man’s collar and pressed the gun into the man’s neck.

“For God's sake, have mercy.”

“Don't ever come back to Gotham.” Jim just wanted this day to be over.

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


When he made it back to Barbara’s he was a total mess. Barbara’s face when she opened the door said it all. “ _Oh, my God, James_. I've been so worried.” He slowly walked into her embrace and basked for a while in her warm kindness. “What happened to you?”

With Harvey’s words about Barbara echoing in his mind, Jim knew he couldn’t tell her exactly what he had just gone through. He couldn’t put her in that sort of danger, not after all she was doing for Jim and his Bonded.

One thing this whole ordeal had brought home to Jim, however, was that he had to see his Bonded. To try to explain all of the feelings Bruce had been getting through the NAB, and just to see him.

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


Driving up the long private road to Wayne Manor put Bruce’s situation in even starker relief. Not only was Bruce obviously extremely wealthy, he had to be supremely lonely in that giant of a house. As Jim parked he felt a strong urge to look up. What he saw there nearly stopped his heart. Bruce was balancing on the edge of the roof, the wind blowing his hair, and his stance a little wobbly. Reaching for the NAB, Jim could feel how afraid but determined Bruce was. Jim tried to remain calm as he went to stand underneath where Bruce was balancing, as if to catch him should the worst happen. Before he could get into a tolerable position, the front door opened and Mr. Pennyworth stepped out. Voice still caught in his throat, Jim pointed helplessly towards Bruce. 

“ _Oi_! Master Bruce! Get your bloody ass down off there! How many times have I told you?” Alfred was clearly also uncomfortable with Bruce’s current position. Bruce finally looked down at them and Jim couldn’t help but to give an awkward wave. Bruce disappeared from sight and Jim was stuck looking helplessly at Alfred.

Scoffing, Alfred stated drily, “Master Bruce has been beside himself waiting for you to visit. He had to find ways to distract himself.” With that uncharitable statement, Mr. Pennyworth turned and walked back into the Manner, and Jim had no choice but to follow.

Alfred led him to a lush living room where he instructed Jim to sit and wait for tea. Jim sat down gingerly on a plush leather sofa, contemplating how out-of-place he felt in such opulence. Bruce quickly appeared in the doorway and Jim’s wondering mind was abruptly brought into sharp focus on his Bonded. He stood up, not knowing what to do with himself. Bruce himself looked a little uncertain, glancing at his feet before seeming to gather his nerve and meet Jim’s eyes.

“Are you alright? I felt quite the fluctuation of feelings from you this past day.”

Jim could not get over how mature Bruce sounded. His Bonded was more eloquent that any other his age that Jim had encountered, even more so than many of Jim’s own peers. “I am fine now. I am just relieved that we can finally have a proper conversation, and I can try to explain what you have been feeling from me.”

Bruce nodded shyly and made his way to an armchair next to where Jim sat. “We do have much to discuss. I’ve been doing some research on the NeuroAffective Bond symptoms that we seem to be under the influence of. I never realized that it could be quite so strong and clear when we haven’t even properly…” Bruce broke off with a blush. Jim found the pink spreading across his cheeks extremely endearing. Bruce seemed to feel these positive emotions and his blush deepened.

“You are absolutely right. While we are unmistakably Bonded, we have not had time to assimilate one another like we should have.” Jim was amazed how just being in the presence of Bruce made all of his negative experiences from this past week seem to fade to the background. It was almost addicting. “I have also noticed the NAB effects from you. I haven’t been able to ask anybody about their personal experiences to compare because I wasn’t sure how you felt about our connection getting out.”

Biting his lip, Bruce knew what Jim was trying to get at. “My father- father was adamant that he and mother would not help me find my Bonded until I was a legal adult. They were so afraid for me…” Here Bruce cut off to try to gather some composure.

“Bruce,” Jim nearly cooed. “I wish with all my heart I could have met them after we had our Initial Conversation far in the future, and we could have all been happy together. I wish they hadn’t…” Jim was also getting choked up with this train of thought. “All we can focus on is the situation we are in now. We have to make the best of this situation and plan how we will move forward. Together.”

Sniffing delicately, Bruce agreed and continued his earlier train of thought. “What I was trying to get at was that I am clearly too young to be involved in any sort of physical relationship with you.” It was Jim’s turn to blush. “As we are already Bonded, you are more than welcome to my house and my resources. What is mine, is yours, as the saying goes.”

While Jim could agree with that sentiment, that wasn’t what he was about at all. “Bruce, I don’t want your money, I want our Bond.” These words had a profound effect on Bruce’s psyche, but Jim didn’t try to analyze it at this moment. “I only want to be able to be with you as much as I can and to get to know my Bonded better.” Jim sighed. “Saying that, I think we should keep our Bond on a strictly need-to-know basis. As you have probably guessed from the feelings you sensed from me, I lead a very dangerous life. I don’t want to put you in any more danger than I can prevent.”

This got Bruce’s attention and his eyes narrowed. “Speaking of, what on earth happened to you? I knew you would likely lead a dangerous life, going by your Words and in doing research on your chosen career…” Here, Bruce brushed his forearm.

Not being able to keep himself from interrupting, Jim blurted out, “Can I see them?”

Nonplussed, and going red again, Bruce acquiesced and lifted up his sleeve and took off the protective sticker. He turned his body and practically thrust his arm at Jim. Jim was mesmerized by the dark gray ink running along Bruce’s forearm in Jim’s handwriting. He took off his jacket and lifted his own sleeve, baring his Words for Bruce in kind. Bruce’s hand reached out but gave a little pause. Bruce tore his eyes away from his handwriting, and asked “Can I…”

Jim was quick to say yes. “But only if I can too.” He smiled good humoredly, and Bruce agreed as well. So it was that they both reached out and touched their Words.

The NAB effects immediately became even more pervasive. The emotions Jim was getting through Bruce and vice versa were clear enough they could imagine the words that would go along with them.

_Wow._

_I know, right?_

_I’m so glad I met you._

_I’m so sorry about mom and dad._

_I know._

_I’m sorry about my dangerous job_.

_Don’t be. It’s part of you, and I like all of you._

_I like you too._

_I’m scared._

_I’m worried._

_We’ll get through it together._

_Yes._

Their immersion was disrupted by Mr. Pennyworth coming in with tea. They both instantly jerked back and covered up their arms.

Jim cleared his throat awkwardly and asked a question that had been bothering him. “Why were you up on the roof?”

“I'm learning to conquer fear.”

“Fear doesn't need conquering. Fear tells you where the edge is. Fear is a good thing.”

“And you think I haven't told him that, do you?” Mr. Pennyworth clearly had some unresolved thoughts he had to express as well. The eyes he had trained on Jim were very cool and judgmental. Jim would have to have a talk with Mr. Pennyworth as well.

“I can sense you have something important you have to tell me, but you are hesitant.” Bruce said, interrupting the stare-down between his butler and Jim.

This was going the be the hardest part of this whole blasted week, Jim just knew it. “Yes. Mario Pepper didn't kill our parents. He was framed by the police department and the mob working together. We killed an innocent man.”

“Right. So who did it, then?” Mr. Pennyworth interjected, derisively.

“I don't know.” “I see. Well, sterling work there, then, mate.” 

Jim couldn’t help but think that Alfred was casting doubt on more than his detective work, but he also wasn’t going to deny the truth. “Yes.” Here Jim laid out his badge in front of Bruce, as an offering. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. I'm glad he's still alive. I wanna see him again.”

“Bruce, I'm asking you to give me a second chance.” He wanted Bruce to realize he could rely on Jim. That Jim would do his best not to let Bruce down. “I'm going to find out who killed our parents and why. And I'm gonna clean up the damn police department if I can. But I can only do that from the inside. So I'm asking you to stay silent about what I've told you and who we are to each other.” Jim could see the indecision in Bruce’s eyes and he wanted to include Bruce in on the decision making. “Your call.”

“Right, well, that's sort of convenient, isn't it?” Again, Mr. Pennyworth had a differing of opinion on Jim’s philosophies.

“ _Alfred_!” Bruce exclaimed. Jim was a little gratified on the quick defense. Bruce picked up Jim’s badge and studied it before handing it back to Jim, their hands caressing and giving Jim a sharper look into Bruce’s belief and trust in Jim.

“Thank you.” Jim said, grateful beyond compare for his Bonded. “But we still have a few things to discuss.” Bruce sat back in the armchair as a show of agreement. Jim looked to Mr. Pennyworth and asked him to sit down as well. When Mr. Pennyworth attempted to deny this request, Bruce insisted and the butler sat down on the opposite armchair of Bruce. “Our age difference is the first major hurdle we will have to discuss and overcome. I know it must be giving Mr. Pennyworth especially some contentious thoughts about myself. I just want everybody in this room to be clear that I fully plan for our Bond to be platonic until such a time, Bruce being a legal adult, that we can both consent to altering our relationship.” Both Bruce and Jim were flushed, but Alfred’s complexion seemed to calm down the further Jim got in his speech.

“I agree,” Bruce said. “That is what I was trying to get across earlier when I brought up dad. I am fully aware that the discrepancies in our ages would make me unsuitable for anything more than friendship until I can gain equal knowledge for myself.”

Well, now, Jim didn’t know if he’d go _that_ far. The thought of Bruce “gaining knowledge” from anybody else besides Jim made his possessiveness rear its ugly head. Glancing at Mr. Pennyworth, Jim could see similar thoughts flowing through the butler’s mind.

“That’s all well and good,” Alfred then spoke, getting over Bruce’s words quicker than Jim. “What I want to know is whether or not this young chap is going to be staying with us.” Alfred turned his glacial gaze back to Jim. “I heard your little speech about not wanting Master Bruce’s monetary support. How do you intend to keep the Bond healthy while attempting to keep it secret?”

That was a very fair question on the butler’s part, so Jim answered honestly. “I intend to investigate our parents murder until I find the real culprit. I imagine I can explain any visit to Wayne Manor away as updating the son on the on-going investigation. After that, well, I think that any detective that was part of finding his parent’s murder would create a sort of friendly relation with the detective and the son of the victims, Mr. Pennyworth.” Jim knew that sounded a little mercenary laid out like he said, but he was confident that it was the best ruse to go for concerning them.

“Please, call me Alfred.” The butler suddenly allowed. Jim thought he may have passed some unspoken test.

Jim acquiesced with Alfred and turned to Bruce for his input.

“That seems to be as good a plan as any. And should we decide to alter our platonic stance when I am of age…” Bruce led.

“I would be proud to announce to the world that you and I are Bonded.” Jim finished instantly. “We can disclose the truth that we had a tragic meeting and we chose to remain platonic up until that point.”

The contradictory emotions in Bruce of gratitude and grief made Jim feel a stab of sympathy for everything this young man was going to go through and had already gone through.

“One final thing for now.” Alfred cut in. “The matter of the young woman you currently find yourself shacked up with.”

Barbara. Of course a person of Alfred’s means would find out everything there was to know on the older man that his young Master had been Bonded to. Jim couldn’t fault Alfred for that. “Barbara and I are really good friends. We were both lonely when we met and we agreed to a temporary companionship. She knew I was fourteen years old when my Words came in and she confessed that she is still Manifest. I have since told her, the one person who knows who I am Bonded to outside of we three, that we had to change our relationship to friendship. She knows that I fully plan to be celibate until my Bonded can make the decision as to whether he would have me or not. As for the rest of the world, we are letting them believe what they will. It will be a nice disguise and Barbara’s parents will definitely appreciate it.” The gratitude Bruce was giving off far eclipsed the grief in a hot flash that matched the flush on Bruce’s face. Alfred looked very contented by Jim’s speech as well.

They all three had a lot to discuss still and to plan, but the future didn’t look as bleak as it had before.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of phone calls.

**Chapter 2**  
The Wayne Manor living room was a comfortable setting for any visitors the family were apt to receive. It housed plush furniture, a warm color scheme, and an often lit fireplace to add to the welcoming atmosphere. 

Kneeling in front of a lit candle, with the blazing fireplace behind him, Bruce wonders if Jim will feel what he is about to do. While it does not stop him from following through on his decision, he does not let the consideration slip his mind. As Bruce places his hand over the open flame, he can feel the warmth slowly turn to pain. The NeuroAffective Bond effects start to become sharper in direct parallel to the growing pain. It is quite fascinating, really, how Bruce can tell the precise moment that Jim started to take more notice of their Bond. The door to the living room suddenly bursts open, causing Bruce to jerk to a standing position and to try to surreptitiously hide his hand behind his back.

“Ah. There you are. Been all over the bloody house looking for you.” Alfred proclaimed as he walked in. Bruce could see the moment Alfred started to become suspicious. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” Bruce knew he had been too hasty in his reply. He needed to work on his abilities of subterfuge.

“You, my old son, are a terrible liar.” Alfred’s agreed with Bruce’s inner wonderings, eyes darting to his protruding elbow and the butler gestures pointedly. “What you got there? Come on, show me.” Bruce knew the game was up when he could not get his mind to come up with a feasible excuse not to do as Alfred asked. So, he reluctantly produced his hand. Gasping as Alfred suddenly grabbed his face with both hands and got up into Bruce’s space. “Oh, my God, you stupid little boy!” Bruce couldn’t keep in his emotions any longer, tears started welling up in his eyes. “Oh. It's all right. I'm sorry. It's gonna be all right.”

With that, Alfred gathered Bruce up into his arms and did his best to comfort his charge. They stood like that for a good while before Alfred disengaged them and led Bruce to one of the lush couches. They sat side-by-side in quiet contemplation of one another until Alfred broke the stillness. “What on earth would induce you to do such an irresponsible thing? How is Master Gordon feeling about this?”

Bruce took a quick inventory of the Bond and Jim did seem to feel a bit worried at the moment. Sending a rush of reassuring thoughts towards Jim, Bruce replied, almost sullenly to his own chagrin, “He is fine. Besides, he is not the only one in this Bond that will have to put up with an injury.”

“Is that why you did this? To get back at Master Gordon for the dangers and hurts his job puts him through?”

“No!” Bruce exclaimed. _That wasn’t it at all!_ Though, if Jim were to realize firsthand what their Bond sent through to the other when they became injured, it may cause him to be more cautious… But that wasn’t Bruce’s main concern. He had to become stronger. Jim was doing all of the work to catch mom and dad’s murderer, all the while working in a very treacherous environment. Bruce wanted to feel like he brought something to their Bond, besides being one more thing for Jim to worry over. Bruce had to become a more reliable and strong person if he was ever to be worthy of Jim. He did not want to let Jim down like he had their parents. 

“Right, well, I think we should give the good detective a call, don’t you?" Alfred gently inquired.

Feeling that the reassuring thoughts Bruce sent had not fully abated Jim’s worry, Bruce supposed it might be best to do as Alfred suggested. And it wasn’t as though he would not love to hear Jim’s voice again. The man had visited just last night for some tea and to catch up on the investigation, but he knew that he could never get enough of Jim. “Yes, Alfred. That may be prudent.” Alfred placed a ringing phone in Bruce’s hand suddenly as though to give Bruce no choice of putting off the conversation until later. 

Jim answered on the second ring, voice sounding a little gruff. “Bruce? You okay?”

“Yes, Jim, I am well. I have a small wound, but it is nothing to worry over.” Bruce could see Alfred rolling his eyes in his peripheral. Scooting so his back was to Alfred, Bruce said lowly. “I did not want you to think anything of it, but Alfred was insistent.”

“I’m glad you have Alfred there to take care of you Bruce.” Jim said in that sincere way of his that never left Bruce feeling anything but cherished. “I don’t care how small a hurt is, I won’t ever like it when it happens to you.”

Seeing a little bit of unevenness of philosophy in that statement, Bruce couldn’t help but reply “Are you under the impression that I am unmoved when you yourself are brought harm? Because let me relieve you of that illusion; I do not care for it either.” Bruce knew he was in danger of a full-blown tantrum if he didn’t restrain his argument there, so he let himself fall silent. 

“I know. I know that Bruce.” Jim sighed over the line. “I promise to do my very best to limit putting myself in harm’s way, but you are aware of the requirements of my job. You told me you had done research on detective work.”

“I have. And I do understand.” Bruce stated reasonably, but added grumpily. “That does not mean that I enjoy it.”

Jim laughed at that and their conversation turned to more mundane topics. Bruce felt that he could never tire of hearing Jim’s voice. Just being able to talk to him brought a bloom of warmth to his soul.

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


Thus started what would become a regularly scheduled phone call. Every night, or even just when either was feeling the need, they would call one another. 

“It sounds like a tough case,” Bruce was saying.

“Yeah, it is especially hard because all of the kids taken are around your age.” 

Bruce could hear a feminine voice in the background. “Ta-da! Moo shu. Sorry… is that Bruce on the line?”

Jim’s voice became a little muffled as he answered in the affirmative. “Bruce, is it alright if I put you on speakerphone? That way I won’t have to describe the investigation to both of you separately… darn nosy people!” Jim playfully said to both of them.

Bruce saw no reason to argue with that. Bruce grasped the benefit of being involved in any conversation between Jim and Barbara that he possibly could. Bruce wasn’t suspicious of Jim, he was just being… to be frank, at least with himself, a little possessive. “Go on.” He stated after Jim put him on speaker. 

“They drugged them with a big pen, right?” Barbara threw in. “That is so creepy.”

“Ah, you don't wanna hear this stuff, it's depressing.” Jim was obviously backtracking on the topic. He probably did not want Bruce to hear the morbid details. Well, Bruce could handle anything that Barbara could!

Apparently on the same wave-length, Barbara asked persistently, “What do they use them for? The children.”

An exasperated sigh came through the line. “Nobody seems to know. And we can't say a damn thing to the press. Bad PR.”

“I can't believe the system is so corrupt.” Barbara muttered. Bruce, however, knew a thing or two about public relations. It really was a steep learning curve for him as the newfound head of Wayne Enterprises. Which, admittedly, Bruce had put on the back burner in light of focusing on Jim’s new case.

“You have no idea.” Oh, honest Jim. Bruce could conceive that this was probably one of the very first times Jim has come in contention with public relations. Jim’s honest nature likely led to a disparity between Jim’s belief in what _should_ be done and what _will_ be done by his superiors. If Jim were to continue on his path, he would also have a steep learning curve.

Barbara spoke before Bruce could say something to that effect. “What do you mean?”

“No.” Jim sounded as if he was speaking around a mouthful of food. Bruce would have to inquire about what sort of etiquette lessons Jim would need before they entered into society together. Bruce flushed at his presumption as Jim continued his thought. “You know, figure of speech, I guess.”

“Did something happen you're not telling us about? These last couple of weeks Jim has been different. Troubled.” This last statement was apparently aimed at Bruce. 

The only problem was that Bruce had not noticed. His and Jim’s Bond was still so new, they were still getting to know one another. Bruce had assumed that the low-grade flow of negative feelings was just what came with Jim’s job. They stop whenever Jim is speaking to Bruce, which, as the boy had reasoned, happened whenever Jim was off the job. Obviously they were two separate circumstances and Bruce would have to reevaluate his conclusions. He just disliked that the observation came from Barbara. If he couldn’t even tell when Jim was having a hard time, he was letting Jim down! 

“Mm. No. Been having trouble sleeping, I guess.” It was almost a revelation that Bruce could sense that Jim wasn’t being fully honest. Bruce did not know if it was for his or Barbara’s benefit, but he kept his knowledge for himself. It could be very useful to have an awareness of when Jim was lying. Not only that, but _Bruce_ had been having trouble sleeping as of late and he hadn’t brought it to Jim’s attention. Perhaps both of their altered sleeping patterns had led them to neither noticing the other’s restless nights… A very interesting theory Bruce would enjoy looking into further. 

“The newspapers must get anonymous tips all the time.” Barbara questioned. 

“Sure. Yeah. You mean call it in myself? Heh. No, I can't do that.” 

There was a rustling sound and Bruce heard Barbara’s voice faintly, as if she had walked across the room. “Gotham Gazette? The news room?” There was a clunk as if Jim had dropped the phone. 

“Wait. No.” Jim’s voice started to grow fainter as well.

“Jim?” Bruce asked into the receiver. He strained his ears to hear them. 

“I can't talk long. Somebody is abducting homeless children off the streets. And the cops are trying to keep it quiet. Go talk to Captain Sarah Essen of GCPD. She has got a kid in custody who can tell you the whole story.” Barbara had called the newspaper? Didn’t she know what kind of danger that could put Jim in?

Jim must have thought so as well because his voice was very irritated as he said, “End the call.”

“I gotta go.”

“Listen, Barbara, when I tell either of you stuff, it's between us. You can't do what you just did.” Jim’s voice came back in comfortable hearing range. “Bruce, you can’t tell anyone about my cases either, okay?”

“Yes, Jim.” Bruce said faithfully. “Except Alfred.” Which Bruce felt could have been left unstated, but he wanted to be clear. They had both made a promise to keep Alfred informed of their conversations, if only for the butler’s peace of mind.

“It was the right thing to do.” Came Barbara’s obstinate reply.

“Not the point.”

“What is the point?” Things were starting to sound a little aggressive. Bruce was fascinated… and relieved that it wasn’t he that Jim was angry at. Bruce doesn’t think he could stand having Jim angry at him. 

“You're right, it was the right thing to do. Don't do it again. Okay?” 

“Yes, boss.”

“Bruce?” Jim spoke directly to Bruce. “I’m gonna let you go, okay? It is all of our bedtimes. I’ll call again tomorrow.”  
Bruce agreed and they let one another go with final goodbyes. 

Later that night found Bruce tossing and turning in his four poster bed. 

_They were so happy! The first night they had to go out together in a while, just the three of them. His dad was so busy all the time with whatever had him locked up in his office for days at a time, and his mother was so busy with her plans for the Arkham Asylum and the betterment of Gotham in general. Alfred had graciously chosen to stay behind to let them have a family night._

_As they turn to walk into The Alley, it looms like a dark well, deep and cold, waiting for them to fall in. Bruce pulls on his parents’ hands, trying to prevent them from entering that abyss, but they continue to laugh as they disengage from Bruce and disappear into the darkness. Bruce is frozen on the spot, watching as his parents went where Bruce could not follow. He was left standing all alone, at the lip of the deep pit, his parents gone. A light started shining behind him, full of warm feelings and the promise of connection. However, wherever the light touched the darkness, it was swallowed up, not piercing through it at all, disappearing just as his parents had._

_He was so weak! He had done nothing to help his parents! And this light that was warming his back was in danger of being extinguished by the darkness in front of him. He had to protect the light, he could never let it be put out! It was_ his!

Springing up straight in bed, the sheets wet with perspiration, Bruce just sat there gasping. He wasn’t able to get back to sleep that night. However, thinking of his conversation with Jim and Barbara earlier, he looked intently into the Bond and sensed that Jim was actually asleep, blissfully unaware of Bruce’s own troubled sleep. _Good._

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


Bruce saw the consequences of Barbara’s actions in the morning paper. The front page was full of accusations against the GCPD and Mayor James was pointing fingers every which way.

Jim’s call that night left Bruce worried about Jim’s stress levels. The whole conversation was stilted and Jim was so distracted Bruce finally let him go after just a short conversation. Bruce tried to be understanding, but he couldn’t help a small tickle of resentment for this case. He wanted Jim’s full attention! At least when they were having their nightly phone call. 

That is why Bruce was so glad when Mayor James announced the missing kids had been found and they would be sent to juvenile services for their protection. However, through the Bond, Jim didn’t feel very satisfied, and his expression in the press photos was not happy. In fact, his expression brought to Bruce’s mind a scowling oni. Bruce wondered what the news and the Mayor weren’t saying. 

As Bruce was contemplating the conundrum that was his Bonded, he started drawing in the margins of the notebook he had been using to document all of the clues he and Jim had been able to compile. Dark swirls and creatures, tall spires and scraggly landscapes. Listening to heavy metal, Bruce wiled his afternoon away in such a manner. 

He got his chance to personally find out what had caused Jim’s sour mood the next day when Alfred failed to inform him that the butler had taken it upon himself to invite Jim over for tea. Bruce found out when he happened to be reading in the study and felt Jim entering the Manor. Curious because Jim hadn’t mentioned a visit, Bruce set out to find his Bonded. He was walking up to the Living Room when he heard Alfred’s voice saying in a very concerned manner, “He's not been sleeping. And when he does, he has these nightmares. Now he's hurting himself. Burning himself. He's cutting.” Here, Alfred’s voice turned accusing, “Haven’t you felt it?”

“Our emotions often parallel to such a degree that I can’t tell his emotions from mine.” Jim’s awareness of Bruce’s presence outside the door came in perfectly clear, so Bruce was a little puzzled as to why he would ask, “Have you thought of getting him professional help? 

“Oh, you mean psychiatrists? Oh, no, none, he won't have them. No psychiatrists, that's a rule.” Dear Alfred, he knew what Bruce was determined to do, or not do.

“You make the rules, don't you? You're his guardian.” Jim started sending Bruce welcoming nudges, trying to make him enter the room. However, Bruce was determined to let Alfred finish what he had to say. Bruce wanted to know what Alfred was thinking. 

“Now, your two's father gave me very firm orders was him and his missus to die. Now I will raise the boy the way his father told me to raise him.”

“Which is how?” Jim felt very skeptical. 

“Trust him to choose his own course. He is, after all, a Wayne.” Bruce felt both proud and anxious about this statement by Alfred. He wasn’t strong like a Wayne ought to be. 

“Sounds like a recipe for disaster. What do you want me to do?” 

“He wants you to talk some sense into me.” Bruce finally gave into Jim’s nudges and came into the room, revealing himself to Alfred.

“Haven't I told you to stop creeping up on people like that. It's bloody rude.” Exclaimed a clearly flustered Alfred.

Jim stood up and looked directly at Bruce. “All right then, Bruce. Talk to me.”

“I'm perfectly fine. Alfred's a worrywart.” Here, Bruce couldn’t help but give Alfred a little scowl. 

Jim’s eyes, however, were suddenly fixed upon his wrapped wound. Jim grasped his own had and asked, “Is that what I felt the other day?” 

Feeling a little abashed as Jim’s gruff voice, and of the Bond being brought into focus, Bruce answered just as gruffly. “I burned it.” 

“Listen to me, Bruce. _Feel_ me. You've been through a terrible experience. If you don’t feel comfortable discussing things with me, talking to someone else could be very helpful.” 

Again with the uneven philosophy on their Bond! “You must have seen terrible things in the war, would it--? Would it help you to talk to me about what you saw?” 

“It might, a little.” There was that feeling again of Jim holding back all of the truth. Bruce had to call him on it. If Jim kept seeing Bruce as a boy, he would never let Bruce help him _carry any burden._ All Bruce wanted was to be an equal in this Bond. 

“You're not a very good liar.”

“Bruce, you're hurting yourself, and, through you, I am hurting too.” 

“I'm testing myself.” Bruce had to emphasize that. He would never intentionally hurt Jim, he had to get that point across. “Different. But I appreciate your concern.” Here Bruce gabbed a cookie from the tray and tried to feign nonchalance as he changed the subject. “I've been following your adventures in the newspapers. I feel very sorry for all those poor children.”

“Me too.” Jim seemed to reluctantly accept the change in topic.

“I'll give you some money to give to them.”

“I'm afraid it doesn't work that way, Bruce.”

“What way does it work?” 

“Those children need someone who cares for them. Like you have right here.” Jim places a hand over his own heart before making a gesture to include Alfred in that statement. Alfred ducked his head almost bashfully at being included. “Money won't buy that.”

That gave Bruce such a deep feeling of thankfulness for these two men. But, he wanted to be helpful any way he could. Bruce had plenty of money, he didn’t know what else he could offer. “There must be something I can do. What about clothes? They all looked awfully ragged.”

“They did, didn't they?” Here Jim sent more warm feelings of pleasure and gratification. 

Bruce couldn’t keep in a smile, but he did try to hide it with his treat. Jim was the best Bonded, his use of the NeuroAffective Bond had always been to the benefit of Bruce. Bruce had to try to mirror Jim’s innate ability to project for Jim when Bruce had been injured or was depressed. Trying in now, Bruce envisioned sending feelings of thankfulness and affection. It seemed to work because Jim was suddenly smiling brilliantly, his eyes crinkled and bright. Jim was _so great_!

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


Jim was _so awful_. He had taken up the habit of keeping all of the details about his investigations from Bruce. Jim had tried to be subtle about it, still mentioning his cases vaguely, but he had ceased to mention anything of interest. Bruce had to resort to putting the pieces Jim _granted_ him together with the newspapers and the Channel 7 newscasts to figure out how Jim’s cases were going. 

It was very discouraging, the fact that Jim didn’t trust him with the detective’s job. There had been a newscast just that morning that had shown that Ronald Danzer fraud flying into the sky via a weather balloon, presumably as revenge for his stealing money from half of Gotham. However, when Bruce called Jim to ask about it, Jim had skillfully maneuvered around answering any of Bruce’s questions. 

In contrast, and as if sensing Bruce’s discontent, Alfred was extra attentive and even suggested a duel to get Bruce’s spirits up. Bruce saw this as childish way to pass the time, and told Alfred so. Alfred replied by whacking him about the torso with a wooden practice sword. 

“Come on, swat. En garde. Here we go, son. What? What? Shall we go?” Each statement was followed by a jab from Alfred. 

Forced to block Alfred’s blows, Bruce parried back. “I don't want to do this.”

“What?” Here Alfred jerked forward threateningly, but it was a feint. Bruce couldn’t help but let out a breath of laughter. “There she blows. Eye of the tiger through the wind in your nostrils, Sir Bruce. The blood in his veins. Sink. Mind your head. Dive!” Bruce ducked, and Alfred’s blow hit the innocent bystander of a suit of armor. “Oh, I do beg your pardon, sir, I’m most—Oi! Might be the bat. Bloods up. And hyah!” With that, Alfred grabbed Bruce’s arm, and slapped at his undefended legs. “That’s got to hurt.”

“I said, stop!” Bruce was fed up with getting jabbed and smacked around. He went at Alfred with wild cries, swinging maniacally. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!” Alfred ducked behind the velvet curtains. “Stop. Down swords. I surrender.” Dropping his stick, Alfred held his arms into the air. Bruce was grinning widely, chuckling and out of breath. “See? A nice sword fight gets our blood up, doesn't it? Better than reading these dusty old files. What is this, anyway?” Alfred opened the file. “Police file. Your mom and dad. How did you get these?” 

Bruce wasn’t smiling anymore. “Wasn’t- wasn't hard.” Money did have its uses, after all. 

“Why would you wanna look at these? They're horrible. They're gonna give you nightmares.” Alfred’s face was a mask of genuine worry. 

“I have those anyway and… I'm looking for clues.”

“So you're a detective now?”

“If I find a clue, I am.”

“Have you found a clue?”

“Not yet.” It galled Bruce to admit, especially with Alfred’s clear disapproval. 

“Not yet.”

“Master Gordon has promised you that he will find the person that killed your parents—"

“You really believe he will?” Questioning Jim felt almost sacrilegious, but with all of the cases Jim has been called on, how will he find time to investigate their parent’s murders? 

“He will try. Of that I'm certain.” That was the first time Alfred has spoken in Jim’s defense to Bruce; it was usually the other way around. It galled Bruce that Alfred had a point. Jim was doing the best he could in finding their parent’s murderer; but, he did have to do his job as well. Bruce just felt that if he could find a clue for Jim to use, the investigation may go a little smoother when Jim did get time. That, and Bruce may have taken Jim’s shutting him out of his day job a little personally. There was plenty that Bruce could help out with if just given the chance. He wasn’t even going to mention that he was personally looking into their parents’ case to Jim or Alfred until he had actually found a clue. Now he had been found out by Alfred. Bruce just had to convince Alfred to not mention it to Jim for a while and he could continue his investigation. 

The next day brought more news about Jim’s current investigation. The Gotham Gazette’s front page held a story about the ‘Balloon Man’ sending a dirty cop into the skies this time. A cop from the GCPD. But, Jim was arguably one of the best guys on the force. He wasn’t in any danger… When Bruce had tried to call earlier, Jim had been very brief about saying he couldn’t talk at the moment due to the precinct being in an uproar. Jim promised to call back when he had the time. Hearing his voice had been a small reassurance, but Bruce still had a sinking feeling in his gut. Jim was really stressed and it was bleeding into Bruce’s already strained nerves.

“Right. So no breakfast then. And no dinner last night. What's the new program? You wanna see how long we can go without eating anything? Well, if that's the case, I should save myself the trouble of making it.” Alfred was nattering along but Bruce was only listening with half an ear.

“Have you seen this?” Bruce asked brandishing the newspaper. 

“Oh, yeah, nuts are going around offing people with balloons. Can think of easier ways to kill someone.” Was Alfred’s irreverent reply. “Master Bruce, forgive me for uttering the tired old words ‘in times like these’ but in times like these you really need to keep your strength up. For yourself and for Master Gordon.”

“I'm just not hungry.” How could Bruce think of food when they both were so stressed? 

Jim called back that night and he tried to sound more chipper than his depressed inner feelings would suggest. When Bruce called Jim on it, Jim just confessed that he didn’t think it was right that everyone was now concerned over the Balloon Man now that a cop had been killed, but they hadn’t been concerned before. “Everyone has to matter or nobody matters.” 

Bruce felt a twinge of guilt to joining in with those who hadn’t put much stock into the Balloon Man until a cop had been killed. But it was different for Bruce! He wasn’t part of the police force and he had a Bonded who was a cop. He had personal interest in this case now. When he said as much to Jim, his Bonded laughed and gave Bruce that concession. They then moved to more mundane topics such as Bruce’s studies and the brief duel Alfred and Bruce had in the Living Room. It was topics like that that brought out the warmest feelings from Jim. So, it wasn’t a hardship for Bruce to talk about them. 

The next victim of the Balloon Man being another criminal helped Bruce relax from his worry about Jim, but only a little. He still felt a faint foreboding in his stomach. A foreboding that proved to not be so groundless the next day when he heard about, and felt, Jim’s accident. Bruce’s alarm and worry over the line led to Jim promising to visit the Manor in person as soon as he wrapped things up. 

“I'd imagine the criminals of Gotham are sleeping well tonight.” Alfred tried to distract Bruce as he was waiting for Jim’s visit, and Bruce tried to let him.

“He killed people. That made him a criminal too.”

“That's very true. Can I get you anything else?” 

“No, thank you, Alfred."

“Right, well, you know… Do try and eat a bit, won't you? Be a shame to have you floating away with the detective.” Bruce did not appreciate Alfred’s sense of humor at that moment, and he looked back to the newscast playing.

“ _GCPD claims a win, but this journalist is left to wonder now that The Balloon Man is gone, who will defend the people of Gotham? This is Channel 7 at 7 reporting live from the former Gotham Juvenile Facility Center in downtown with your minute-to-minute update. Back to the newsroom, John._ ”

When Jim did make it to the Manor, he was limping and his face showed the pain he was in. 

“You're okay.” Bruce stated, inanely. He couldn’t keep himself from walking up to Jim and giving him a heartfelt hug. Jim wrapped his arms around Bruce’s shoulders and he could feel that Jim wasn’t seriously injured, yet, he had to make sure. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah. I fell, that's all. I'm fine.” Jim let Bruce go and led him to a couch. Alfred was hovering in the background, and even he seemed worried about Jim.

“What's wrong? I can feel that something is wrong. I’m your Bonded, let me help.” That was a bit more demanding than Bruce had intended, but he wouldn’t take the words back. 

“The city is sick. Sick in a way I hadn't realized. When they were taking him away, this Balloon Man killer, I asked who his last target was. You know what he said? ‘Doesn't matter.’ He meant the mayor, judges, anyone in a position of power; they're all guilty.” Jim must have been feeling a greater deal of stress than Bruce thought, to be so honest with him. Or, Bruce’s argument about helping had worked.

“Is it true?” Bruce asked. Seeing their parent’s murders first hand made Bruce feel that nothing could surprise him anymore when the topic was the darkness in Gotham.

“That's how he feels. That's how they all feel. Everyone. That's why the city embraced him. Because we let them down. But if people take the law into their own hands then there is no law. And we're lost.

There are cops who do it. Same thing he did.” Jim was clearly having a crisis of identity. Bruce knew that Jim was taking this personally, but he couldn’t allow that.

“Jim, I know you could never take the law into your own hands.” Bruce said seriously. “It just isn’t in your nature. However, I have been following the news. There was great support for the Balloon Man. I think we have to look out for people in the future trying to do that same thing.”

Meeting Bruce’s gaze directly, Jim’s eyes suddenly softened. “How did I get so lucky to be Bonded with someone so smart as you?” Bruce just smiled and flushed. Alfred pointedly cleared his throat in the background. Jim’s eyes swerved to the butler and back to Bruce. “I think it is time for me to head home. Barbara is probably also worried and you need to get your rest. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your fatigue through the Bond.” Here Jim stood up and ran his hand quickly through Bruce’s hair, before letting it rest on the back of his neck. “Please, try to get some sleep. For me?” Bruce could only nod. Alfred then escorted Jim out of the Manor and Bruce tried to do what he had just promised. Rest.

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


“ _Forty acres. Twenty-six city blocks. The last major undeveloped district in the city of Gotham. Arkham. Now, before their untimely and tragic deaths, Thomas and Martha Wayne had a plan for their city. A progressive development plan that would raze Arkham's shanty towns, and in its place build new, affordable housing for Gotham's less fortunate._ ”

Watching Mayor James’ speech, Bruce felt a little anxious. This man could be the key to his mother’s hard work not going to waste. A reporter in the crown was on the same wavelength as Bruce, asking about Arkham Asylum.

“Torn down. Brick by brick if need be. In its place, a cutting edge state-of-the-art mental health facility. This is a vision for the future of our city. 

“An opposing plan is gaining support recently.” 

“Then it would do away with the asylum all together. Use the surrounding land as a waste disposal site. No. No, the Wayne plan is best for this city and more importantly, for the people of this city. This is why I am endorsing it.” Bruce had to do some more research on this plan. Maybe he can further his mother’s plans, maybe he can help Mayor James in his endorsement.

Jim must have been feeling something similar because he stopped by the Manor to ask Alfred questions about it. They were both trying to be sly and keep the conversation from Bruce, but he didn’t know why they bothered. Bruce could track Jim down anywhere when he was as close to Bruce as in the Manor. 

“I need information about the Wayne plan for Arkham.” Jim was saying.

“Ah, it's the Wayne plan in name only now. When the Waynes died, Falcone stepped in. He's back in the plan now. And he stands to make quite a chunk of change if it passes.” That was news to Bruce… 

“But Councilman Jenkins was backing Falcone's plan.” Jim must be referencing another case he was keeping the gory details from Bruce. When would Jim realize Bruce could handle details about Jim’s detective work?

“That's right.” 

“Then he was killed because…?” 

“Because, Master Gordon, there is an opposing plan.”

“Maroni. He's the only one strong enough to oppose Falcone. He's making a play at Arkham.”

“Are they related?” Bruce couldn’t remain on the outside of this conversation anymore. He had to know how his mother’s plan was going to be opposed. 

“Bruce. How are you?” Jim walked up to Bruce and grasped the back of Bruce’s neck in his new favorite way of greeting. 

However, Bruce was not to be distracted, no matter how much he enjoyed Jim’s affections. He gestured for Jim to sit on the couch and Bruce retrieved a paper from a nearby desk. He sat as well and read out loud, “‘The new Arkham Asylum will serve the mentally ill of Gotham in ways the present asylum never can. Those poor, sick souls deserve our help.’ Our mother wrote that. She and father fought for years to get a new asylum built. They thought that if they can help the city's least fortunate it would show there was hope for everyone. I just don't want our parents' dream to die with them.”

“Neither do I, Bruce. But this isn't just about the asylum. If there is a fight between Falcone and Maroni this could be the spark that ignites a city-wide gang war. Innocents will die. And whatever little faith people have that police can protect them It will be crushed.”

“So you have to stop it.” Bruce had all the confidence that Jim could do anything he set his mind on. Jim seemed a little more hesitant as he sighed, glancing away from Bruce. 

A buzzing came from Jim’s pocket and Jim pulled out his phone. Jim stood up and placed the phone to his ear as he walked to a corner, “This is Gordon. Be right there.”

Turning apologetically back to them, Jim explained, “That was Harvey. We have a hitch in a case we are investigating.”

Bruce bade him farewell, but asked Jim to keep him updated on the Arkham plan. Jim agreed reluctantly and left quickly. 

Alfred just gave Bruce a sympathetic glance before he followed as escort for Jim.

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


_The deep well of the gun filled his vision, the tinkling of pearls on the ground, the loud bang of a gun being fired…_

Bruce woke up gasping, a common occurrence lately. He checked his Bond and found Jim distractedly sending warmth Bruce’s way. Jim’s goodness was why Bruce found himself so tired lately. Bruce had to find a way he could help Jim. If only Jim would allow it…

“You all right?” Alfred asked from the doorway. He didn’t seem to believe Bruce’s assurances of being fine. “I heard screaming."

“Bad dream.” Bruce had to admit. Though he didn’t think there was any _screaming._

“Oh. Was I in it?” Alfred’s dry humor was enough to lift Bruce’s spirits a little. 

“Not this time.” With that, Bruce went back to the files he had been napping on. “Alfred, are there any more files on the Arkham plan?” 

“Yeah. Absolutely untold piles of the bloody things.”

“I'd like to see them, please. All of them.”

“And may I ask, uh, why?” 

“I'm looking for a connection. Between the councilmen murders and the murders of my parents.

“I see.” And now Alfred was back to his stoic compliant state. 

The Arkham plans and Jim’s detective work had been the source of many non-arguments between Bruce and his butler recently. Alfred would make some passive-aggressive comment about leaving the detective work to his Bonded, and Bruce would ask for some tea. Alfred would snidely comment on the dust from the files covering his suits, and Bruce would ask for lunch. Bruce had found that Alfred was very distractible when Bruce expressed any inclination to consume food. It was a handy technique.

It was right before Bruce was going to go to bed when Jim finally made his nightly call. Bruce had almost given up on it, and said as much to Jim.

“I know, I am sorry about calling so late,” Jim did sound awfully sorry. “I almost didn’t.”

“I’m glad you did.” Bruce cut in. “You sound exhausted. Is there bad news about the dead councilmen?”

“No, no.” Jim sighed. “It’s just, Barbara and I had a fight.”

There may have been a bit of vindictive pleasure in Bruce’s chest for a moment, but he quickly squashed it. He really did have nothing against Barbara, and he knew Jim was being true to his vow of celibacy. According to the research Bruce has done, there would be no way for Jim to hide any sort of… physical relationship from Bruce. Bruce would know. So, he wasn’t happy Jim was fighting with his beautiful, of age, roommate. Really. “What was the fight about, if I may ask?”

A sigh came through the line again. “Barbara has an old friend that keeps visiting who doesn’t like me much. She thinks that Barbara and I are still together and she believes I am not good enough for Barbara.”

“That’s not true!” Bruce exclaimed loyally. _Barbara_ wasn’t good enough for _Jim_. “Why doesn’t she like you?”

Here there was a noticeable silence and Bruce could feel Jim’s remorse through the bond. “She thinks I did something very bad, that I didn’t do. I just had to convince Barbara of my innocence, and I thought she had fully trusted me. She knows I don’t tell her all the details about my job… Heck, I don’t even tell you all the details. Some of it is just not worth sharing, and other parts are just too ugly.” Jim’s voice had become a little ragged at this point. “I don’t want either of you to be… exposed to some of the ugly I work with every day.”

Having never thought of it that way, Bruce was left wordless. This whole time Bruce had been thinking Jim just thought Bruce couldn’t handle his job, all the while Jim had been trying to protect Bruce from what even battle-hardened Jim found ‘ugly.’ It also helped that Barbara wasn’t being told more than Bruce was. Gathering his senses, Bruce said, “You can trust me with anything Jim. Even with the things you want to protect me from.”

“My strong little Bonded.” Jim said fondly, both embarrassing Bruce, and pleasing him.

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


The next phone conversation they had also ended up being about Barbara. Apparently, she had given Jim an ultimatum about his keeping secrets from her, and Jim made his choice.

“She wouldn’t drop it.” Jim was saying. “And she didn’t like that I said it was a mistake telling her so much before. But how could I trust her after she went to the papers when I was stuck in a bind for the homeless children case?”

Bruce was sure Jim was hurting at the notion of being on the outs with a close friend, his best friend, but Barbara had no right to make ultimatums at Jim. She wasn’t his Bonded, _Bruce_ was. On the other hand, he had been thinking similar thoughts as Barbara. Not that he would ever leave Jim, but he did want to be let in a little more. Especially when a case was really bothering Jim. Now, thanks to Barbara’s pushing, Bruce was frightened of ever broaching the topic with Jim. If Jim felt that strongly about keeping his job separate from his personal life, Bruce would have to have a very good reason to argue with Jim about it.

Making agreeing noises, Bruce let Jim vent a little more. Then, the inevitable end came when Jim noticed how late it was getting. Bruce almost saw their nightly conversations as bedtime stories, if that had not been too juvenile to Contemplate.

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


It was the next day that all of Bruce’s research came crashing down around his ears. Jim was over and they were watching a rerun of Mayor James' speech about Arkham. 

“ _… And I know that the Waynes, were they still alive, would be proud of what we've been able to accomplish today._ ” As Mayor James finished his spineless speech, Bruce grabbed the remote and turned the television off jerkily. 

“The mayor's making this new plan sound like it's good for Gotham.” He turned to his Bonded. “But- But it's not, is it?” 

“No, it's not.” Jim had the decency to be honest.

“Then why's he doing it?"

“He was caught between two very powerful opposing forces.” Jim sounded almost defeated.

“Falcone and Maroni.” Bruce knew that much.

Nodding, Jim stepped closer, “Maroni threatened the mayor's life. Out of fear, I'm guessing, the mayor made a compromise and gave Maroni a huge piece of Arkham.”

“What piece?” 

“Maroni gets to build a waste disposal site. And he gets the contract to refurbish Arkham. Falcone gets to build a low-income housing project.” So two mob bosses get to put garbage where their mother’s hopes and dreams had rested. Bruce sighed and collapsed onto the couch; he was starting to get why Jim felt beaten. “Look, Bruce I know it's not the outcome we had hoped for.” Jim sat next to Bruce, facing him. “But this compromise it may have prevented a lot of bloodshed. May have even stopped a war.”

“Our parents believed a new asylum would bring hope to Gotham. Now that's gone. Everything they worked for is now falling into the hands of criminals.” Didn’t Jim understand how upset their parents would have been if they were here? 

“Not everything. You're alive. It's not too late.” Bruce could feel Jim’s hope and commiseration amidst the unenthusiastic emotions flying back and forth through their Bond. 

Looking into Jim’s blue gaze, Bruce was ready to believe anything Jim said. He just had to hear it from his Bonded’s mouth. “Do you really believe that? Do you believe Gotham can be saved?” 

In echo of his and Alfred’s conversation earlier, Jim declared, “I believe it's worth trying.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus my pattern is set. I will switch back and forth between Jim and Bruce with each chapter.
> 
> Again, additional information, notes, and brainstorms on this fic, can be found [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/blockovich).


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _In which Bruce the budding detective does some foot work while his Bonded and Butler worry_

**Chapter 3**  
  
Trying to focus on the new case about the drug giving users great strength and euphoria, before leading to their gruesome death, Jim’s thoughts kept going back to his latest sighting of Selina Kyle. If Jim were being honest with himself, and he makes a point of being so, he is still reeling from her revelations. Everything that girl said caused great upheaval to Jim’s peace of mind lately.

Selina Kyle had said she had been _watching him_. The girl had seen his parent’s murders, had seen Bruce on the worst night of his life. Had seen the killer’s face. Selina said she had seen Jim interact with Bruce enough to know that he was a _friend_ of Bruce’s. Jim hoped to God that that was all she would infer from their interactions.  
Being skeptical at first had led Jim to losing Selina back to the streets. He had hoped that the next time he saw her he could convince her to at least sit down with a sketch artist. But, it was not to be. The robbery at the store that led to his new case had distracted Jim from pursuing her more fervently.

Jim hadn’t even told Bruce or Alfred yet about this possible lead in their parent’s murders. He couldn’t. At least, not until he had Selina pinned down and had a sketch of the murderer’s face. Seeing how slippery Selina was being, Jim didn’t want to get the two at Wayne Manor’s hopes up. 

Jerking out of his reverie by the buzzing of the phone on his desk, Jim looked at the receiver and started to move towards the locker room, phone in hand. It had become Jim’s habit to relocate to a more private and quiet area whenever Bruce or Alfred would call. Which, admittedly, had been quite often as of late. Harvey had started to take note, as was evidenced as his raised eyebrows over the open files upon his partner’s desk. Jim’s made up another tired excuse, before walking away. He didn’t know how long Harvey would last before he started asking more probing questions. Jim hoped he had a good excuse formed by then. 

“Jim Gordon.” Jim answered as he would anyone. Alfred’s voice on the other line sounded a bit hushed as the butler went right into the reason for his call.

“Wayne Enterprises is hosting a charitable luncheon tomorrow. I took the liberty of accepting their invitation on Master Bruce’s behalf. He said he would go,” voice gruff as usual, but quiet, Alfred continued in an almost non-sequitur, “and he _asked_ for breakfast.”

“That’s great, Alfred.” 

Jim and Alfred had become allies of a sort in their equal concern for Bruce’s growing obsession with investigating every case Jim was working on; with the greatest emphasis being on their parent’s murders, of course. They had both observed that Bruce was sleeping poorly and eating minimally. Alfred would confide in Jim whenever the butler found Bruce to be in a more obstinate mood than usual, and direct Jim to give Bruce a call to distract the boy. Which, Jim gratifyingly found, worked every time. The benefits Jim felt through the NAB far outweighed the guilt the small subterfuge caused Jim. However, Alfred would usually only call with bad news, not the good news this appeared to be.

“Master Bruce has expressed his intention to ask the members of the board about Arkham. He wants to interrogate Wayne Enterprises about their possible associations with ‘those gangsters.’” Here, Alfred’s gruff voice took on a more falsetto tone, clearly quoting Bruce. “Master Bruce was spouting out words such as ‘clever camouflage’ and ‘shell companies’ and ‘offshore accounts’, and ordering me to stay out of it.” 

With each quote, Jim felt dread build into the pit of his stomach. Before he could come up with anything to say to this inventory, Alfred spoke again. 

“I blame you for all of this fantastic detective work Master Bruce has been doing. That boy idolizes you.”

There was no way to get around that fact. While Alfred had been warming up to Jim a bit, events such as this could bring out the uncompromising stance Alfred took on his young Master’s health and wellness. Jim didn’t even begrudge being on the wrong side of this stance of Alfred’s, because it was proof positive of Alfred’s love for Bruce. Jim just wished his actions never led Alfred to being in such a state over Bruce, for that meant that Bruce himself was in a state to be worried over. 

“I’m sorry--,“ here, Jim cut himself off at the sight of Harvey poking his head into the locker rooms. 

“Nygma got a lead on this new drug.” Harvey raised his eyebrows tellingly and jerked his head, indicating Jim’s job was beckoning. 

Jim nodded and pointedly waited until Harvey was gone before getting back to Alfred. “I gotta go, sir.” A simple code the two came up with to indicate unwanted ears about. “I will call him later to follow up on your concerns. Thank you.” With that, Jim let Alfred go and got back to work.

“Viper somehow activates unused DNA.” Nygma was explaining about the new deadly drug in Captain Essen’s office. 

“The body starts to burn calcium from the skeletal system as fuel hence the victims' cravings for milk and cheese. They're desperately trying to replace the missing calcium but they can't consume enough. Essentially, their bones crumble, then they suffocate and die.”

Captain Essen, Harvey and Jim were all discussing the drug and its social implications when Nygma threw a spanner in Jim’s mind, but a contribution to the case. 

“The best is WellZyn.” Nygma stated in answer to the inquiry of which lab the drug could have been produced from.  
“But this is not them. They're a subsidiary of Wayne Enterprises.” Jim had the same sense of being in the spotlight whenever his Bonded family’s name was mentioned. He didn’t know how to stop from feeling so, it wasn’t like anybody was suddenly going to point at Jim and say _he’s part of that family, ask_ him! The Captain continued with no notice of Jim’s inner unrest. “It’s a multibillion-dollar corporation. Why would they be doing this?” 

Getting his head back in the game, Jim suggested they start at the top to find out. 

There came a sudden commotion when a cop was thrown through the office window. The young street worker who helped Harvey and him from before was yelling to be let go when her skin started to distort as her bones crumbled from within her. Jim just hoped that Bruce never had to find out what their family’s company may be a part of.

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


Not much later, Jim and Harvey were saved a trip to visit by the appearance of Taylor Reece, the general counsel, and public relations for WellZyn. 

“WellZyn has no connection to this tragedy,” Reece was saying. “We will vigorously pursue legal action against any individuals making assertions to the contrary.” 

“Do you think we push a button, or does she just rewind automatically?” Harvey said in his irreverent way.

“We're looking for an employee of WellZyn's,” Jim said in his professional way. “Male, with a severely damaged ear.”

Here, Reece was a bit more forthcoming. She had an employee file faxed over. “That's Stan Potolski. He worked for us for several years as a biochemist. Primarily personal-care products. Shampoos, toothpastes.”

“So, what happened?” 

“Stan was frustrated that he wasn't doing more important work. He grew disgruntled and unstable. We tried to get him help, but he resisted. Last April, there was an incident. He tried to cut off his own ear during a disagreement with his supervisor. 

“Guess it was harder than he thought.” 

Few people were up for Harvey’s morbid humor, and Reece wasn’t the exception. “We had to let him go.” 

Reece wasn’t any more help than that. She stonewalled their questions into the matter further. “Stan Potolski is a brilliant man perfectly capable of building his own lab. But you are more than welcome to examine our facilities with full and proper clearances, of course.” 

Jim wondered idly if Reece would change her tune if she realized Jim was the Bonded of none other than Bruce Wayne. But, it was not to be. Not for another six years at least. “We'll get the paperwork started.”

They were in the process of looking into where Potolski may be found when a man brusquely stepped into Jim’s space. 

“Gordon, right?” The man looked disreputable to Jim’s trained eye. 

“Yeah, who the hell are you?” He had no time for this man; there was a case to investigate. 

“You gotta come with me now, nice and quiet, like.”

“What are you talking about?” Jim wasn’t going anywhere with his lout! 

“Relax. We got a mutual friend.”

“Oh, yeah? Who's that?” 

“Oswald Cobblepot.” On the other hand, it may be in Jim’s best interest to hear this guy out. _Damn_! Another absurdity from Jim’s first case he would sooner forget. Jim would never be able to do that if the little weasel kept turning up everywhere Jim spun. Seeing Jim’s upset face, the man continued. “Yeah, him. And if you don't come with me now we're gonna put his head in a bag and send it to Falcone which would be embarrassing for you, no? Or maybe we've been misinformed… If I'm not ringing any bells here, you can go on your merry way,” the man let his words trail off leadingly.

“No, I'll come.” Jim had no choice. This Cobblepot situation was getting out of hand! How was Jim supposed to keep Bruce from Widow’s Words at the ripe age of twelve if Jim kept getting himself into these ridiculous situations. 

Ridiculous situations such as sitting in front of Salvatore Maroni as the Mafia Don asked dangerous questions about Jim’s actions leading up to Cobblepots ‘death.’ Jim tried to keep his heart-rate even, and his emotions in check. No need to worry Bruce….

Jim also told himself he had no sympathy for the shaking man that had been sitting next to the Don about to get his face ‘sliced like prosciutto,’ whatever _that_ meant. He tried not to feel sorry for the man who put Jim is such a position as to leave his Bonded alone in this dark world. Well, he did his best, and that was what really mattered. 

“I was a pawn in a conspiracy between Falcone, the Mayor and the GCPD to frame Mario Pepper for the Wayne murders with the help of Fish Mooney, Mr. Cobblepot's employer at the time.” Jim was proud of his even voice. “Mr. Cobblepot then told the whole story to the MCU. To prove that I wouldn't betray the conspiracy Falcone ordered me to kill Cobblepot. I didn't do it. I let him live,” a fact Jim was coming to regret more and more. “And here we are.” 

“Falcone, Mooney, the MCU cops- none of them know he's alive?"

“If they did, I'd be dead already.” And his Bonded a Widower.

Luckily, Maroni was tickled by the whole affair. The Don likely saw the benefit of having one up on the rest of the powers in Gotham. “Thank you, Jim. Good story. Told well. A lot of guys in your situation, they freak out.” 

Snorting internally, Jim agreed that he was getting a lot of practice on suppressing his emotions. He had to try to keep any negative emotions in check or he was apt to get a worried call from Bruce tonight, and a stern call from Alfred tomorrow. “Can I go now?” 

“Oh, yeah. Jim, you can go. Just so that we understand each other we'll keep all this hush-hush between us pals. And if I need you again, I'll call you.”

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


“You disappear in the middle of a case, and you can't even tell me why?” Harvey was griping back at the GCPD.  
“That's what "personal" means.”

“You in some kind of trouble? Look forget it. I don't wanna know your problems. WellZyn sent by Potolski's stuff. Grab a box.”

Glad at Harvey giving up his attempted concern as a lost cause, Jim got back to work. “Anything useful yet?” 

“No, classic geeky loner. Lived for his work. No wife. No family. No real friends…. Is it Barbara? Is that who you are taking phone calls from in the locker room?” Or, maybe Harvey wouldn’t let it go.

“Uh Yeah. Kind of.” It was as good of an excuse as any without the actual truth being involved.

“Figures.” Harvey was quick to accept Jim’s answer. “No offense. Need any help?” 

“No, I'm all right. Thanks. Hey, what do you think about this? Looks like a friend, no? Judging by the books, the mascot Philosophy professor. Gotham U. Worth a shot.”

“Amen.”

The professor was a tottering old man in a sweater vest. He was a well of information about Viper, WellZyn and Potolski.  
“…Viper was the first batch. They worked out the kinks in the second version, called it Venom. By then, Stan had acquired some clarity. He appealed to his bosses to end the program. They refused.

So he went over their heads, to Thomas and Martha Wayne.” Jim perked up here. He only really heard about his parents from Alfred and Bruce. Jim was almost ravenous for any information on what they were really like. The professor continued, “he convinced them to shut it down. And when they died, WellZyn immediately revived the program with the blessings of Wayne Enterprises. In the end, there was nothing for Stan to do but to resort to more radical measures.”

Radical measures such as killing people. As the professor continued to speak sympathetically of his former student’s actions, Jim started to get an inkling of where Potolski was now, a horrible suspicion that the professor was in on it. 

“You're already too late,” was probably the worst thing the professor could have said to his inquiries.

“Now you tell us where—“ Harvey started to use his usual aggressive interrogation technique, but Jim interrupted.

“Wait a minute! You said you had an appointment, right? Where are you going?” 

“Bravo! You've asked the right question. The first step to enlightenment.”

That was when shit hit the fan. The old man inhaled a good dose of Venom and started attacking them. Harvey was thrown through the door.

Jim didn’t have the patience for this old man after he was forced to shoot him. “Where is he? Where's Potolski?” 

“Those hypocrites. Empty altruism will not erase what they've done. They must pay.”

_God, please let Jim’s suspicions be unfounded._ “Who? Who must pay?” 

“WellZyn, Wayne Enterprises. Everyone will finally see them for what they are.” 

Jim rarely hated how his mind could make connections between the smallest clues, but he hated it now. He had to make sure, though. “How? Where's Potolski headed?” 

Harvey yelled belligerently “What’s altruism?” but the old man had already lost consciousness.

“Charity.” Jim answered exasperatedly. “I know where he's going.” _And damn it all._

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


In the cruiser on the way to the Wayne Enterprises charitable luncheon that Alfred mentioned in their conversation earlier, Jim’s first call was to the GCPD calling in the possible attack. His very next one was to Bruce’s phone. He knew that Bruce wasn’t the most logical choice, but Jim had to hear Bruce’s voice to prove that the NAB wasn’t lying about Bruce’s well being. 

When there was no answer, Jim immediately called Alfred. In his periphery, Jim could see Harvey’s occasional curious glances thrown at Jim. Disregarding it as something to worry about later, Jim was relieved at Alfred answering with compliments on how mature Master Bruce looked talking to a Wayne Enterprises representative. Loathe as Jim was to interrupt Alfred when he was waxing poetic on his favorite topic, Bruce’s safety was of the utmost concern. Before Jim could interject, however, Alfred cut off and Jim could hear a man’s voice in the sudden hush of the other line. 

“This is a public service announcement on behalf of all living creatures. You've heard of a drug called Viper? That's me. I made it for WellZyn a subsidiary of Wayne Enterprises.”

“ _Shit!_ Alfred, listen to me! Get him out of there, _now_!” Jim yelled.

Alfred’s answer was to hang up immediately. Jim hoped that meant Alfred did as he asked. 

Harvey skidded to a stop in the middle of the road and he and Jim got out of the car running. They burst through the doors and ran up the entryway stairs, asking after Potolski’s probable location near the A/C plant. 

Jim shouted for Harvey to clear the ballroom as he headed to the roof. He found Potolski standing next to a drum of what was likely Venom, hooked up to the A/C.

“Turn it off!” 

Wearing a server’s uniform, Potolski said, “I can't do that.”

“Turn it off or I'll shoot!” 

“Go ahead. My work is done.”

Jim, following through on his threat, shooting the barrel. Green fumes erupt into Potolski’s face, causing the man to fall to the gound, writhing in pain. Except Jim’s good will had been stretched too far. Bruce had been in that room! Nobody put Bruce in danger and got away with it! “Turn around, put your hands behind your head! Interlock your fingers!” 

“That's all right. You're angry and confused. I understand. There's no more need for violence.” Potolski almost sounded relieved, light-hearted even. 

Hearing footsteps coming up behind him, Jim yelled to Harvey. “Don't shoot!” 

“That's considerate of you,” Potolski said. “I'm leaving now. Go look in Warehouse 39.”

“You're not going anywhere!” Harvey yelled 

Practically screeching, Potolski replied with his arms wide, “I can go anywhere I want!” Saying that, Potolski turned and headed to the edge of the roof. 

“Don't do it.” Harvey yelled but Potolski was already over the bannister. Screams start up immediately. 

Jim hopes to God Bruce hadn’t seen that. His Bonded had been through enough this past month!

“You really can have too much of a good thing.” Was Harvey’s contribution to the tragic end to their case.

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


Later in the evening, Jim and Harvey were in the warehouse Potolski mentioned. There was nothing of true note except the bare bones of a lab in almost pristine condition. 

“Nothing.” Jim couldn’t help but be disappointed. He had hoped Potolski’s ravings would lead to more than this.  
Harvey, as usual, had no such expectations to disappoint. “What'd you expect? It's Gotham.” 

Back in the car, Jim and Harvey sat in contemplative silence for a while, both brooding a little about the case. Jim knew his reasons why this case bothered him in particular, besides the fact the perp committed suicide before they could take him in. He could only guess at the inner working of Harvey’s mind though. It was probably a scary place. 

“Who is Alfred?” Harvey asked casually out of the blue, as though he did not really care about the answer.

Jim though… Jim was stuck. He was tired, a little depressed about the end of the case, not to mention distracted in his focus on the sensations coming from the NAB. He wasn’t on his A-game, so his reply was a little dense. “Who?” 

Harvey just gave Jim a pitying look. “Alfred. The guy you were so worried about calling when you heard where that terrorist was going to hit.” Harvey glanced at Jim smugly then. “The guy you called almost before you could call the threat in!”

Knowing there was no way out of answering Harvey when he was after facts, Jim did the only thing he could do. He gave Harvey the truth. “Alfred is a close acquaintance of mine.” There. Simple and true.

“Yeah,” Harvey agreed condescendingly. “But who is he? I’ve never heard you mention him before.”

“Remember that conversation we had about ‘personal?’” Jim asked back, equally condescending. 

Harvey wasn’t having it though. “How _close_ an acquaintance are we talking here? Gotta be close enough for you to know where he would be at a given time.”

There were times like these that Jim was reminded that his partner was in fact a detective as well. He had to give Harvey something more substantial, or Jim would never hear the end of this. “Alfred is the butler for Bruce Wayne. He and I have had a few conversations about the Wayne case. We may talk about other things. He’s a funny guy, that’s all.” Again, enough truth to make Harvey think that was all of it.

Except, Harvey must be coming up with some wild conclusions because his eyebrows suddenly shot up and he turned wide eyes towards Jim. “Everybody could use a _friend_ now and then. No judgement from me, partner. And I won’t tell Barbara either.” 

Great. Just great. Jim didn’t like the sound of how Harvey said _friend_ , but he supposed he should take his victories where he could.

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


The sun was still shining when Jim made his way to Wayne Manor. It was in their customary gathering place that he found both Bruce and Alfred searching through WellZyn files.

Alfred stood up and commented drily, “I see you’ve made use of the spare key.”

Bruce also rose and he moved towards Jim to receive his standard greeting. 

Complying with Bruce’s expectation, Jim clasped Bruce around the back of the neck. The only addition he couldn’t stop himself from making was to bring their foreheads together. “Are you okay?”

With a flushed face and warm feelings, Bruce replied in the affirmative.

“Got him right out, didn’t I?” Alfred broke in pointedly.

Jim released Bruce and they all sat down on the couches. Jim picked up one of the numerous files and saw it was a personnel file of WellZyn’s. “Doing some light research, I see.” Jim spoke airily. 

Not seeing the ironic look Alfred and Jim shared, Bruce went into a monologue of all that he had found and deduced so far. Jim just sat back and listened to Bruce. Not only was he happy to hear whatever his Bonded wanted to talk about, Jim was also coming to the conclusion that Bruce had great budding talent in investigation and detective-work. And he was smart as a whip. Jim just had to find a way to tell Bruce he didn’t _have_ to follow in Jim’s footsteps. 

That conversation could wait though. Jim was content to sit with the warm fire burning in the background and his Bonded sitting next to him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the effects of the NAB are great.

**Chapter 4**  
“ _I'm Lacey White, and this is the Gotham Seven Goatwatch. Tonight, Gotham's wealthiest 1 percent rest fitfully under a copycat killer's deadly shadow and if you happen to be one of the city's high-society silver spoons then you're probably headed to the Swiss Alps right now and away from – .”_

Sitting in his new customary spot at his father’s desk in the living room, Bruce turned off the news about Jim’s latest case. Jim had told Bruce that Detective Bullock had worked a similar case before. According to Jim, Detective Bullock was greatly affected by the similarities and Jim wanted to give his whole attention on his partner during this case. They were supposed to be visiting a retirement home to get further insight on the case from Detective Bullock’s old partner. So, Bruce supposed, he would be hearing less from Jim than usual.

“They've got them all running like rabbits.” Bruce commented on the news cast.

Alfred, who was sitting on an ottoman across from Bruce agreed. 

“I don't know why he chose an ungulate for his totem,” Bruce couldn’t help but comment. Because… a goat? Really? “But he does know how to scare them though.”

“You do realize you happen to be one of ‘them,’ don't you, Master Bruce?” Alfred said in that raspy way of his. “Yeah, a firstborn son of Gotham's rich and powerful. I don't know, maybe we should leave town for a little bit. Pop down to the lake house. Maybe we can convince Master Gordon he would like it there as much as you do.” Alfred suggested, perfectly aware the NeuroAffective Bond between Bruce and Jim hadn’t been subject to such great distances yet. It was still fairly new after all. Bruce placed the pencil he was using to take notes down and gave Alfred his full attention. 

“We’re not going anywhere. We both have work to do.” Jim would never leave his partner when Detective Bullock was so stressed. Not to mention how neither Jim nor Bruce were apt to let a case go unsolved. “Besides why would the Goat take me? As far as anyone’s concerned, there's no one to take me from.”

Alfred had no argument for that.

When Bruce was about to fall asleep that night, he heard Alfred’s worried voice coming from the foyer. Knowing that Alfred wasn’t prone to talking to himself, and that Alfred only really talked to a few people, Bruce inferred that Alfred must be talking to Jim on the phone. Well, Bruce wanted to talk to Jim too! He didn’t care if it was past his _bed time,_ or whatever reasons Jim had for not calling Bruce directly. 

With that in mind, Bruce got out of bed to demand to talk to Jim as well. It was his right, after all.

However, as he reached the stairs, Alfred’s voice came in more clear and Bruce was able to deduce that it wasn’t Jim he was speaking to.

“…and you haven’t been able to get a hold of Master Gordon?” Alfred was saying.

There was a silence as the butler listened to the response. “What kind of proof could MCU have? Now, calm down, Miss, calm down. We both know Master Gordon is innocent.”

It must be Barbara on the phone. Through the Bond, Jim seems fine and responds positively to his questioning feelings. So, Bruce is perplexed as to what kind of trouble Jim may be in. The Major Crimes Unit must have the wrong conclusions based on shoddy detective work. Besides, didn’t Jim say that Barbara’s friend who didn’t like him worked in Major Crimes? That had to be a factor as well. 

“Miss, you wait up for Master Gordon, and I will try to get him on the phone myself. We’ll see what’s what here. If you would be so kind, give us a call if you do see him before I can talk to him. Thank you, Miss.” With that, Alfred hung up the phone and immediately started dialing a new number. He placed the phone to his ear and stood there for a good while. When there was apparently no answer, he swore colorfully and jabbed the phone off.

“No answer?” Bruce asked softly from the top of the stairs. More colorful cursing came from Alfred as he jumped and looked up at Bruce.

“You, lad, need a bell, I swear.” Bruce could admit to himself that riling Alfred up was a very enjoyable pastime. However, now was not the time for light-hearted hobbies. 

Bruce took his own phone out and dialed Jim. There was no answer, which in and of itself was nothing to worry over. But, coupled with Alfred’s ominous call from Barbara Kean, made Bruce anxious. 

As Bruce started making his way down the stairs, Alfred asked what he thought he was doing. “We both know I will be getting no sleep tonight. Might as well make it a productive one. I’ll do some more research as we wait for news on Jim.”

“Might as well,” came Alfred’s dry voice from behind him. Nevertheless, Alfred still asked as they entered the room, “How does Master Gordon feel?” 

“A bit excited but not overly so. He seems fine and he has sent reassurances to my inquiries.” Bruce rubbed his eyes and tried to focus on the paper he had just picked up. “He always sends that when he’s on a case. I don’t want to disturb his investigation too much. He will hopefully call me when it is over.” 

Bruce was asleep on the couch in front of fire when the vibrating of his phone on the coffee table woke him up. Reaching blearily for the device, Bruce was brought fully awake by the window creaking shut behind him. He glanced at the fluttering blinds but his attention was caught by Jim’s exhausted voice on the other end. 

“Bruce? I’m sorry if I woke you but I saw that I had several missed calls from my three favorite people.” 

“Jim!” Bruce was abruptly alert and sitting up. He noticed Alfred enter the room in his periphery so he made eye contact with his butler. “Where are you now?”

“I’m just getting home. You would not believe the night I had just now. I got into a little bit of a fight though. That didn’t wake you?” 

It hadn’t and Bruce said so. Bruce could hear the jingling of keys and a door being pushed open. “Good.” Jim’s voice turned surprised as he asked, “Barbara?” 

Barbara Kean’s faint voice could be heard over the line. “Jim, look, I don't know everything, but I know enough. You have to listen to me now.”

“What is with you all?” Jim sounded so tired, but they had to get Jim to pay attention.

“Montoya has a witness.”

That seemed to work just fine. “What?”

“They believe you killed this Cobblepot person,” Barbara went on in a rush. Wait, _killed_? Alfred hadn’t told Bruce what the evidence against Jim was for, but _killing someone_? Not his Jim. 

Immediately confirming Bruce’s thoughts, Jim said into the receiver, “Bruce, I didn't do it.”

“Regardless, according to Alfred, who heard from Miss Kean, they've got a warrant for your arrest.” Bruce supplied. 

“What aren't you telling us?” Barbara demanded earnestly. “For weeks now, it's like you've been a different person. 

Something happened not long after you started the job, something you don't feel right about…” Again, Barbara was giving Bruce insight into Jim’s thoughts that he should already have. Bruce understood that she lived with his Bonded, but still, it rankled. However, he couldn’t gain those insights if Jim kept things from him. 

“Somehow they've cornered me. Tied my hands.”

“Come to the Manor.” Bruce broke in. “We can figure it out together. I have access to some of the best lawyers in Gotham. They would be delighted to defend whomever I wish them to.”

There came a knocking on the other line. 

“Bruce—“

“Jim.” Bruce tried to send his determination for his commands to be followed through the Bond.

The knock became more demanding. 

Jim said, “I can't run. It will be okay, somehow.” And Jim hung up.

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


Not much later, the worst seemed to happen. As if this whole affair wasn’t contrary enough after Jim was found innocent, just to have to go on the run from the _mob_ , Bruce was suddenly reduced to a sympathetic ball of pain from the agony coming from the Bond. 

It had started earlier with just the faint feeling of fighting; which Bruce was unfortunately accustomed to feeling from Jim. Even the massive amount of guilt and pleading compassion Jim was feeling was a pretty regular occurrence. 

Not only that, but Bruce had been relieved at Jim’s next call, even if Jim’s news wasn’t all good.

“I sent Barbara away for a little bit.” The fact that Jim hadn’t sounded relieved at not going to jail for murder was Bruce’s first real insight that Jim’s situation had just become direr than before. “Doll, please look out for yourself.” Bruce was struck speechless at the endearment. Jim hadn’t used them before… “I didn’t kill that man, despite the mob ordering me to. I couldn’t do that to you, if that makes sense. But, I now have to go back to the GCPD and put an end to this.”

“No!” Bruce pleaded. “Maroni and Falcone have people in the GCPD! You told me that.”

Jim cooed over the line. “I have to, Bruce. I’m going to be doing something reckless, though. But, no matter what you feel, do not leave the manor.” 

“Please, Jim…” Bruce began, but couldn’t think of how to finish. Jim was just doing what was true to himself. How could Bruce argue with that? “Please, _darling_ ,” here Bruce’s voice squeaked in embarrassment at his own use of endearment. He had heard his parents use it all the time, but using it himself…! “Don’t die.” Bruce hung up at that. Tears started to leak out and he turned to where he knew Alfred would always be. Bruce then fell into the warm embrace of his butler. 

Bruce was still being comforted by Alfred when he felt Jim become truly afraid, muted as if trying to block it, but afraid. Bruce cried out in sudden pain, his lower abdomen piercing with sympathetic agony through the Bond. What the… Jim! His Bonded was in pain and scared. “Alfred!” Bruce started to cry for his frantic butler, when he felt another burst of pain, this time in his thigh. “Alfred, something’s wrong!” 

Alfred, who was more well-versed in these things, despite all of Bruce’s research, tried to calm Bruce with information seeking questions. “Master Jim is still alive, right? You can feel him. What kind of pain is it? Ah, a gunshot, most likely. You can survive those easy, let me tell you. How is Jim now? Afraid? Well, I should bloody well say so! But he is still alive to be afraid.” Each question and answer brought rationality back to Bruce’s frantic thoughts. That probably wasn’t helping Jim either at the moment.  
Bruce kept his great focus on Jim, who was hurt but still alive. Still alive. 

Alfred’s grumbling about “that useless detective, always being inconvenient to Master Bruce,” and “wait until I get ahold of that hopeless man…” actually helped Bruce calm even more. Jim wasn’t conscious any longer, but he was still sending pain through the Bond. Bruce was actually grateful for the agony in that moment. Like Alfred said, that meant his Jim was still alive. 

That was what Bruce repeated to himself for the next endless hours. Ow! Jim was alive. Ow! Jim better call as soon as he woke up! Ow! Thank goodness for the pain. 

When Bruce sensed that Jim was waking up, he immediately sent his worry and need for Jim through the bond. Bruce got back confusion and then reassurance, but Bruce wasn’t giving in just yet. Plus, the pain in his abdomen and right leg hadn’t seemed to have abated much, so Bruce would worry as much as he pleased! There was a bit of humor, but Jim’s fear and pain and uneasiness were still dominant. Bruce sends back _worry/anger/call me now_!

Now that Jim was awake and well enough to send worry, Bruce started thinking about the situation Jim had found himself in. How could Jim have been hurt when he had been headed to the GCPD? Had he been intercepted on his way there? Who had hurt Jim, and what would Jim do now? Which hospital was Jim in? The questions kept piling up, but Jim doesn’t call.

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


A few hours later, however, Bruce could sense Jim getting closer. He tells Alfred so and Alfred escorts Bruce to the Security Room. They both sit with their eyes engrossed on the screens, waiting for Jim to appear. It is Alfred that spots the movement in the copse of trees on the property. 

“I’ll go check that out, and you will stay here as my eyes.” Alfred’s tone brooked no argument. 

Thus, Bruce had to settle for just watching as Alfred moved stealthily along the grounds before entering into the trees. There was a bit of indistinguishable movement before four people came out of the shadows and started making their way towards the Manor. Seeing Jim and Alfred in the group, Bruce shot up and ran to the entrance of the house. The four were bustling inside when Bruce started down the stairs. Honing directly on Jim, Bruce had to forcibly stop himself from throwing his arms around Jim.  
First of all, Jim was in great pain and Bruce would hate to exacerbate his wounds. Secondly, there were two strangers in the entrance and Bruce still had the presence of mind to be wary of their Bond getting out. 

That, and Alfred had subtly intercepted Bruce and suggest to the lot of them to “make their way to the living room.”

Bruce could not tear his eyes away from Jim as they made their way there. His Bonded was limping and grimacing with each step. Bruce was buzzing with the need to reaffirm their Bond, and reassure himself that Jim really was alive and in front of him.  
“Renee Montoya and Crispus Allen, from the MCU.” Jim introduced the two that he had brought with him.

Tremulously, Bruce spoke lowly, “pleased to meet you.” Although Bruce was anything but pleased. He reasoned that they would probably attribute it to their late visit, but he didn’t’ really care. It was the MCU that had got Jim into this chaos. What were they doing with Jim? Why had Jim brought them to his house? 

“Bruce. I promised I would find your parents' killer. I'm not sure I'm gonna be able to keep that promise. I'm kind of in a tight spot. I've upset some powerful people.”

“Stop treating me like a child!” Bruce knew Jim was trying to keep up appearances for the two from MCU, but he was at the end of his patience. “Explain.”

“Bruce, you are a child. You don't need to know—“

“You expect to die!” Bruce could feel that as clear as day. And he wasn’t going to let that stand. Jim _knew_ what that would do to Bruce. “I'd like to know why. Is it connected to our-- my parents' murder?” 

“Yes. It's all connected. Somehow.” Jim’s anguish at Bruce’s miserable feelings was also clear as day. “Bruce... I will do my best to work this thing out, but if I don't Montoya and Allen here will take over your parents' case. I've told them everything I know. You can trust them, 100 percent.”

The two seemed to agree with Jim’s plan. 

That sounded like Jim was giving up on their parents, on himself! Why did Jim have to do this? Wasn’t there _anybody_ else?! Jim came closer to Bruce and spoke in a low voice, “Bruce, these are good detectives. If anyone can find the truth, it's them.”

Unable to keep the emotions out of his voice, Bruce turned to the two and said, “Thank you.”

Alfred broke in and asked what Bruce was also wondering. “Sir, what can we do to help you now?” 

“Nothing. From here on in, I have to go it alone. I don't want anyone else caught up in this,” here Jim looked significantly into Bruce’s eyes. “I have to go.

“You can hardly walk,” was Alfred’s blunt argument.

“I'll be fine,” Jim assured.

Jim raises his hand as if to shake hands, but Bruce needed more than that. He _needed_ more. Nothing would stop Bruce from getting his way; so he throws his arms around Jim fiercely, who hugs him back. Their Bond sings at the physical re-connection. As they break their embrace, Jim’s hand catches Bruce’s and slips a folded piece of paper into it before stepping back. 

Jim leaves soon after that, saying there was no time to waste. Bruce begged off entertaining Montoya and Allen and ran up the stairs to see what Jim had written him. He slammed the door behind him, flung himself on his bed and opened the piece of paper. It suddenly occurred to Bruce that this was the first time he would see Jim’s writing besides the one conversation written on his forearm. 

“ _Bruce, I am writing this in a bathroom with Montoya and Allen outside the door. I wanted so much to call you but could find no privacy away from those two hovering over me. You’ve probably already figured out that I am in real trouble. Know that I will do everything in my power to come back to you. I need you to be brave for me, because I am having a hard time being brave for myself. I believe you can do anything you set your mind to, Doll. I believe in you._

_Love, Jim._

Love, Jim. Jim hadn’t said that out loud yet. Bruce had _felt_ it, but Jim hadn’t said the word out loud. 

Sniffing and hugging the letter to his chest, Bruce finally let exhaustion take him and he lost himself to sleep.

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


Bruce and Alfred were eating breakfast in the dining room the next morning with their two house guests. 

The atmosphere is a little awkward, with just the clinking of silverware on china. Bruce supposes that as the head of the household, he was responsible for being a proper host. That was what Bruce would do, then. Start some light conversation.

“Why is Jim in such danger from not doing the… act that you two accuse him of?” There, easy conversational topic if he did say so himself.

Montoya and Allen gave each other a grimace before Allen answered Bruce’s question. “It seems that Jim had let some bad people assume he was on their side. When it came out he hadn’t done a favor they thought he did, they got upset. They know that Jim isn’t on their side after all now and they want to…” Here Allen cut off uncomfortably.

Bruce didn’t need him to finish anyway. He got the gist perfectly. Oh, Jim.

It was Montoya that broke the next uncomfortable silence. “Alfred, this is delicious. Jim is lucky to have such a great cook as a _friend_. 

Bruce didn’t know why Alfred was suddenly blushing, nor why Allen was scowling at Montoya. Alfred _was_ an excellent chef, and _both_ Jim and Bruce were lucky to have Alfred in their lives. He said as much to the room.

The three adults all look flustered then. 

“I suspect that Miss Kean feels that way about my cooking as well, Miss Montoya.” Alfred replied in a strange tone of voice. Almost abrasive. Now it was Montoya who was flushed, and Allen was giving Alfred an intrigued look. 

Bruce was just confused. It was too early for this and he was distracted by Jim’s riot of changing emotions. They were all muted but Bruce had nothing else of note to focus on. He excused himself from the table, and made his way for the living room. Maybe he could focus there without the worry of giving clues to the two from MCU.

Montoya’s incredulous voice followed him out “Do you mean to imply that all _three of you…_?! 

Jim feels flush with triumph until he is suddenly full of fear again. Then calms down. This roller coaster was getting ridiculous!

The waiting was not in vain, though, because Jim is back in the Manor by the end of the night. He had apparently dropped off Barbara at her apartment. She had, against all reason, came back to Gotham despite Jim sending her away to safety. Bruce didn’t understand that woman. She kept putting Jim in difficult situations. 

“Thank you for staying with these two,” Jim was saying to Montoya and Allen as he escorted them out the door. “It really means a lot.”

Here Montoya scoffed, rolled her eyes, and walked away. Allen gave some cordial parting words and he too left. 

As soon as the door was firmly closed, Bruce threw his arms around Jim’s torso from behind. There may have been a few tears. Jim started murmuring endearments and soothing words to Bruce, but the boy refused to budge. Even Alfred got in on the fulfilling encounter by placing his hand on Jim’s shoulder. 

There they stood for a good while. Alfred was the one to convince Bruce to at least lessen his grip upon Jim. Bruce agreed only when Jim grasped his hand and promised not to let go. Only then did Bruce allow himself to be led to his room and tucked under the covers. Jim sat down on a chair Alfred pulled over for him at Bruce’s bedside. Bruce fell asleep to the warm sensation of his Bonded holding his hand.

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


“Come now, Master Bruce. Had to happen sooner or later.” Alfred could have at least tried to hide his glee a little…

Anders Preparatory Academy was one of the most prestigious private schools in Gotham city. It had a sterling reputation and saw many young members of the elite classes. The school uniform for males included a dark blazer, light blue formal shirt, tan slacks, dress shoes, and a yellow and navy striped tie. Really, the standard attire Bruce may have found himself wearing at home. Bruce didn’t see why Jim had gone to the efforts of convincing Bruce to go back to school. He was doing _fine_ academically, and socially, if Bruce said so himself. 

“Is this really necessary? Homeschooling is just as effective. I can show you the data.” Bruce had compiled many facts about the very topic just last night. He had already gone over them with Jim to no avail. Maybe Alfred could be convinced... 

However, Alfred seemed to have come to the same conclusion as Jim. Further evidence that they may be working together behind his back! “You need to be around children your own age.”

Bruce got out of the vehicle, but couldn’t help but ask “Why?” Not even Jim’s arguments had fully convinced him. 

“Because you do.” Bruce hated that type of argument and said so. 

Alfred tried another tactic, “Don't you miss your mates?” 

“Not really. I've always found them kind of childish.” Most of his classmates had Words already, but very few had had their Initial Conversation yet. _They_ did not understand the difficulties having a Bonded came with. They all had their rose-colored glasses firmly in place whereas _Bruce_ knew the _truth_. Having a Bonded was the best thing, but it was also the scariest.

“That's what they're meant to be, aren't they? It's what they do.” Alfred had a point there. “Don't you wanna be like a normal kid?”

“I'm not sure. D- define normal and make a good case for it.”

“You're going to bloody school,” was Alfred’s exasperated repartee. “Now, start walking.” 

Bruce runs up the steps.

Thus began Bruce’s return to the social circles of Gotham’s elite. The classes were engaging and the materials covered encompassed a variety of enhanced learning experiences to satisfy the demands of wealthy parents to have their children receive expert education. That was what Bruce found most enjoyable about Anders. 

What Bruce found trying were his classmates. They all seemed interested in Bruce, if the whispers following him was any indication, and he wasn’t treated meanly. He just wasn’t invested in the topics of conversation that were brought up as interesting and his classmates noticed this lack. Bruce could not find it in himself to participate in gossip about the latest movies out (he hadn’t been to one since he had gone with his parents), popular celebrities that were considered very attractive (none as attractive as Jim Gordon, Bruce was sure), the latest fashion (Alfred bought all of his wardrobe, but thankfully the butler must have good taste because Bruce at least knew the top brands in style now), nor seemingly any other topic that his classmates brought up. Now, if any wanted to discuss the intricacies of forensic science, or the crime statistics in Gotham, Bruce was ready to hold a lengthy conversation at a moment’s notice. 

After school had gotten out and Bruce had eaten dinner, he received his nightly call from Jim. 

“How did the first day go?” Jim was asking, “Make any new friends?”

“I’m still working that angle.” Bruce answered, getting a flush of happiness at Jim’s answering laugh.

“What’s the battle plan?”

Bruce started listing, “Be quiet, smile a lot, pretend I’m listening to their vapid concerns--“ 

“Vapid, huh?” There’s a jingle of keys as Jim opens his apartment door and a slam as it closes behind him. “Was there no clever individual among the lot?”

Making a humming noise, Bruce pretended to think about it. “There _may_ have been, but they must have been too shy to speak to the traumatized Bruce Wayne. The only ones who spoke to me were the ones with no thoughts for any concerns but their own lives.” Realizing how unfair that may sound, Bruce continued, “But that is much preferable to any pity I could receive.”

“Jim?” Bruce could hear Barbara’s voice call from the background. 

“Yeah, Barbara, I’m ho- is that my spare in your hand?”

“You were late. I got nervous until I heard you talking on the phone.”

“Not the best idea to be handling a firearm when you've been drinking.” Jim did not sound happy. “Look Bruce, I gotta go.”

Bruce acquiesced and found himself once again with their nightly phone call cut short because of Barbara Kean. He was really starting to resent that woman.

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


Behind Ander’s Preparatory Academy was a healthy bit of land where students could go to on their breaks. Bruce was sitting by the side of an elaborate water fountain depicting a battle on horseback reading up on the topic for the next day’s lecture. 

A girl from his Mathematical Practices class greeted him as she walked past with two friends. Bruce was distracted watching them go and was thus surprised by another classmate approaching him with greetings.

Thomas Elliot was a boy with brown hair, deep set eyes under thick brows. He was one of Bruce’s classmates who had been very welcoming.

“Tommy, hey. I'm well. How are you?”

“You know, chilling.” It was on that cordial note that Tommy threw Bruce for a loop. Tommy’s face took on an unpleasant expression as he asked. “So your mom and dad got killed, huh?”

There was no way to answer but, “Yes.” Where was this going…?

“Did you see the whole thing? The blood and everything?” Tommy’s wicked smile gave Bruce a very uneasy feeling.

“I’d rather not talk about that.”

“Just interested. I’ve never seen a real dead body. Was there guts?”

That was Bruce’s parents Tommy was asking after. Didn’t the cruel boy realize that? “I'll be going to class now.”

Still shaken from Tommy’s inappropriate questions during break, Bruce was nearly unable to hide his sudden jerking with the NueroAffective Bond in parallel with Jim getting punched in the face. As soon as the bell rang for the end of lecture, Bruce was heading to find an unused classroom to call Jim, hyper alert after Jim got shot. Twice. It was probably nothing. There were no other feelings of attack, so Bruce shouldn’t be freaking out over what was probably nothing. _Probably_ wasn’t _certainly_ though, so Bruce was going to give Jim a brief call to confirm it. 

“Hey, Brucey.” came the greeting from the one person Bruce would have avoided if at all possible at that moment. 

With even less patience than before, Bruce couldn’t stop himself from correcting Tommy. “It's Bruce. No Y.”

“No parents either, so I can call you what I like.” The hateful boy was supported by two scowling shadows behind him.

Bruce didn’t have time for this lowlife. He had to call Jim before the break was over. “Please get out of my way.”

“Snobby little jerk, isn't he? For an orphan.” There was a stab of pain at that. Bruce didn’t need _reminding_ …

“You're being very unkind. I don't understand why.” What had Bruce done to Tommy to give Tommy the right to be so cruel?

Snorting, Tommy replied, “Boy, you're a weirdo. Your mother must have—“

And that was the last straw. Martha Wayne was the kindest mother a boy could have. She was always there when Bruce had needed her emotional support. She was one of the best people there ever was and Tommy had no right to even _think_ of her! These emotions all swirled in Bruce at the speed of light, so Bruce couldn’t control himself from slapping Tommy in his sneering face. “Don't talk about my mother.”

Running his tongue along his teeth, Tommy couldn’t look smugger at Bruce’s reaction. “Oh, really?”

That was when Tommy signaled to the other two boys and all three of them started hemming Bruce in, poking and prodding at him, slapping him in turn, and heckling the entire while. Bruce tried to get away, to fight back but they were gone almost as fast as they had attacked. Bruce was left standing humiliatingly on a stairwell, his intention of calling Jim thoroughly squashed. Jim would know by his voice something was wrong and Bruce didn’t want to explain what a weakling Jim had for a Bonded. So, Bruce picked up his dropped book bag and headed to his next class. 

At the end of the school day, Bruce bounced down the steps to a pacing Alfred. He had his pocket watch out so Bruce knew the butler had started to worry. “Tad late, Master Bruce.” Bruce could tell the minute Alfred’s astute eyes found the forming bruises on his person. “Oi. What happened?” 

“I'm fine.”

As like many times before, Alfred would not let something like this go. “What happened?”

“Someone spoke disrespectfully about my mother.”

“Oh, did they, now? I hope you broke their bastard teeth for them.” Proving Alfred really was the best, equal to Jim in Bruce’s esteem. 

“No.” and wasn’t Bruce so ashamed of it. “He's much bigger than me, and I… I'm not good at fighting. Didn't hurt him at all.”

“Not at all?” Alfred sounded almost disbelieving. 

“Don't tell the school. And don’t tell Jim!” With that, Bruce ran to the vehicle and slammed the door behind him. He just wanted to forget the whole affair. Alfred got in the car and drove Bruce home in silence.

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


When Bruce tried to call Jim that afternoon, the short conversation left Bruce in an even deeper dejection.

“Hey, everything all right?” 

Trying to sound chipper, Bruce answered, “Fine. I know this is not when you usually call...”

“I’m sorry, Doll, but can I call you back? I’m in the middle of something.” Jim interrupted and he did sound contrite, so Bruce had to give in. 

“Of course. I will talk to you—“ Bruce tried to get in but Jim had already hung up. Bruce slowly took the phone away from his ear and sat where he lay for a long while afterwards. 

It was in the middle of his classwork that evening that Bruce suddenly feels the strangest tingling sensation throughout his body, followed quickly by Jim’s presence in the Bond going starkly muted, like it did that time he was shot and lost consciousness. Not again! Bruce was apprehensive for his future mental well-being if Jim kept getting himself in these types of situations! This was just the perfect way to end his horrible day! 

Bruce couldn’t even ask Alfred about what could have been the tingling Bruce had felt that had led to Jim passing out. Alfred had been very brusque with Jim after the last time Jim had gotten hurt. The butler had made it clear that he didn’t approve of Jim putting Bruce through that sort of thing, disregarding the fact that Jim had to feel it first-hand himself. Bruce knew Alfred had grown fond of Jim, no matter what the butler said on the matter, but Bruce got satisfaction in knowing that he came first in Alfred’s eyes. 

So, Bruce was left to worry alone. All that night, Bruce kept sending pulses towards Jim, but Jim never responded. Bruce was left to a restless night of lonely fretting about an unresponsive, but alive, Bonded. 

That was why Bruce agreed to the harebrained scheme that Alfred had come up with as their activity the next day. That was how Bruce found himself outside Tommy’s residence exhausted and disturbed from his late night troubles.

Still trying to gather his nerves about him, Bruce waited until Alfred opened his door like a proper chauffeur before he got out. Bruce had to do this to honor his mother and to follow the example of strong bravery that Jim gives off.

Seeing Bruce’s hesitancy, Alfred reached in his pocket and pulled out a familiar object. “This is your father's watch. Don't you lose it, now.” Bruce grabbed at his late father’s possession and cradled it. Alfred point to a door to Bruce’s right as Tommy Elliot's house and adds as encouragement. “Don't you be scared.”

“I'm not. I'm visualizing what I'm going to do.”

“Because if you don't want to do this, there's no shame in it.”

“There would be immense shame in it.” With that, Bruce ran up to Tommy’s door and rang the bell.

Thankfully, it was Tommy that answered. Looking surprised, Tommy stepped out and closed the door behind him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“We have unfinished business.”

“Listen, if you think you're—“ Tommy was interrupted by Bruce’s fist in his face. “Are you crazy?”

“Don't talk about my mother.” He punches the other boy three more times.

That was Alfred’s cue, “Master Bruce! Point well made, I think.” The butler then turned to the bully, “You all right, mate? Any broken bones?” 

“He tried to kill me,” was Tommy’s shrill reply. 

“That's right. He did. He tried to kill you.” Here, Bruce scowls vindictively at Tommy. Alfred continued ominously, “Just you remember that next time you see him. And you remember that I let him try. Now, let's get some ice on those knuckles.” The last was said to Bruce. “What do you fancy for your dinner?”

“Pizza.”

“Pizza? Superb choice, Master Bruce.”

Bruce’s high feelings of triumph over Tommy were unfairly dampened by Jim’s sudden wakefulness over the Bond. This time, Bruce can’t keep Alfred from noticing as Jim’s emotions turn to fear and adrenaline. Alfred noticed Bruce’s distraught expression and demanded to know what was the matter. Bruce had no choice but to come clean about Jim’s possible dire straits. There were constant jabs of phantom pain through the bond as proof of such assertions. The focus seemed to be on his fists, but involved Jim’s whole body, so Jim must be fighting really hard. 

Bruce later gets a copy of the film that Richard Sionis had recorded of Jim fighting. It showed Jim fighting three on one and winning, then going up against a man with a sword and winning. Bruce saw Jim chose not to kill the man, even if it seemed like the man had been intent upon killing Jim. When Jim turns his back on the man after letting him live, the coward lifts the sword and goes for Jim. Jim turns around and punches the man in the face, flooring him. That’s his Bonded!

Now Bruce just had to follow Jim’s example.

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


“I enjoyed it. I enjoyed hurting Tommy.”

“Of course you did. He deserved it.” Alfred sounded matter-of-fact.

“We’re so angry all the time. Will it ever go away?” Bruce said regarding his and Jim’s Bond feedback loop. 

“That I don't know. I’m still waiting for my own anger to go way.”

“Alfred… can you teach me how to fight?” Jim was fighting a lot lately. Bruce had to learn as well if he would be a true fighter, like Jim. 

“Yes Master Bruce. Yes, I can.”

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  



	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rival for affections?

**Chapter 5**  
Seeing Selina Kyle in the GCPD lifts a great weight off of his shoulders. Jim knows that the wily girl just wants to get the charges of theft dropped and to not go to JD. He knows that. Which is what leads him to inviting Selina back to Barbara’s penthouse while the girl is in Jim’s custody.

Jim is sure that Barbara wouldn’t mind it, but she is not there when Jim lets Selina in.

Selina was quick to let her eyes roam about. “Whoa. Sweet crib. You must be one rich cop.”

“It's my… girlfriend's place.” Well, Barbara was girl, and a friend…

“Where is she?” 

“I don't know. Barbara?” That was when Jim noticed the letter with his name written on it sitting on a side table. His gut gave an uncomfortable lurch as he made his way over to the table and picked the letter up. Selina was saying something in the background but the words on paper engrossed Jim to distraction.

_Dear Jim,_

_I thought I could be strong and brave for you two, but I can't. Every place I go, I see Falcone and Zsasz. I'm nervous and needy and screwed up. I know that's not what you guys need or want. So I'm going away for a while to get myself together._

_Love Barbara_

So, Barbara had finally had enough. Jim felt so guilty for all that Barbara had been through these past few weeks. Jim finding his Bonded, Jim being more reserved about the information he gave on his job, Barbara being kidnapped and held hostage because of _Jim_. He was noticing a correlation between Barbara’s increasing unhappiness and Jim. 

Even though Barbara had thoughtfully included Bruce in her letter, Jim couldn’t help but think that if Bruce wasn’t in the picture, Barbara may not have left. Not that Jim would make any different decisions that would lead to him _not_ having Bruce. It wasn’t even a choice in Jim’s eyes. Nothing would make him give up on his Bonded. He just wished that Barbara had the joy that Jim had in his Bonded. However, with Barbara still being unmarked, Jim just wished she could find someone who could do what Jim used to do for Barbara. Be there for her and put her first.

Pulling the ringing phone out of his jacket, Jim answers a little more abruptly than he probably should. It was the sketch artist. Jim invites him up to the penthouse. When Jim turns back around to re-read Barbara’s letter, it was not on the side table. 

Sitting on Barbara’s bed, Selina had the note open in her hand. “Sounds like your girlfriend's not coming back, huh? Why is she worried about Falcone? And ‘you two?’ What’s that about?”

Snatching the letter back, Jim was annoyed but grateful that Barbara had been that vague. “None of your business.”

“What happens now? You gonna get the charges dropped?”

“I will, but you're my only witness to the Wayne murders.” His parent’s murders. It was starting to fray his nerves that he hadn’t found the killer yet. Jim knew it was also eating at Bruce.

“You gonna cuff me to a drainpipe again?”

“I'm not gonna hold you against your will. GCPD, juvie, you'd break out.” Jim almost respected that about the girl.

“So I do get to stay here.”

“No. I have someplace else in mind.” Alfred was going to _love_ this. There was a knock at the door. “That's the sketch artist. I need you to describe the man who shot the Waynes.”

“Wait, where am I going to stay?” Selina gave a little laugh of consternation. 

“Wayne Manor.”

As the sketch artist was working with Selina, Jim gave Bruce a quick call. He knew that introducing the curious street kid to Bruce and Alfred was not going to go smoothly.

Bruce answered on the first ring. “Jim!”

“Hey,” Jim could feel the stress of Barbara’s note and Selina’s presence wash away at the sound of his Bonded’s voice. “Is Alfred nearby? I need to talk to both of you.”

Alfred was around, as Jim found out from the butler’s dry voice suddenly coming over the line. “What have you got yourself into now?”

Sighing, Jim knew his news would cause upheaval in all three from their current calm.

Looking in the other room where Selina was engrossed with the sketch artist, Jim spoke lowly. “I have a witness to our parent’s murders.” 

Stunned silence filled the line. Jim could feel Bruce’s emotions come to a standstill before rushing with _confusion/grief/hope/dread/relief_. “Hey, hey Doll. Hey, we will get through this, okay?”

“Doll?” A voice broke in from behind him. 

Turning, he saw Selina in the doorway. How on earth had that girl moved so _quietly_? Pointing meaningfully out of the room, Jim answered, “None of your business. Do you mind?” 

Selina just put her hand up in defeat and walked away from Jim. 

“So, that was the witness. I’m bringing her by to visit when she is done with the sketch artist.” When he got their permission, Jim finished the conversation with, “Alfred, our… cover may be needed for this situation.”

“What cover?” Bruce spoke simultaneously with Alfred’s, “Nothing would bring me greater pleasure, Master James.”

“I’ll see both of you soon and we can discuss this further, okay?” Jim hung up after their reluctant agreements. This day was about to get interesting. 

At Wayne Manor, Jim was showing Bruce the picture that Selina had described. “Do you recognize him, Bruce?”

Bruce sat staring at the picture of their parent’s murderer. The man drawn was slightly overweight, with a strong nose, light eyes, and thick eyebrows. He could have been anybody on the street. 

“No.” Bruce’s tremulous voice cut into Jim. If only he could protect Bruce from even this… “What's her name?”

Jim answered about the girl witness that was currently waiting in the entryway of Wayne Manor as Bruce and Alfred discussed the situation with him.

“Do you believe her?”

“Yes, I do.”

“So she saw… everything?” There was so much Jim could say to that downtrodden comment but Alfred was too quick on the uptake. 

“And you want her to live here with us, do you? Common street criminal.” Jim knew that gruff butler would be a tough sale. So, he had to convince Bruce of his plan. 

Jim pulled out all his arguments. “She's hardly older than Bruce. She's just a kid who's seen too much. This is for her safety. GCPD is full of moles…”

Alfred interrupted, “Right, and how long would you have us put her up, then?”

“I don't know.”

“No, the answer is no. Her being here will put Master Bruce in great danger.”

“Alfred.” Bruce suddenly joined the conversation. 

“She is the witness to a murder, Master Bruce. You do understand that, don't you?”

“She's also the best chance we have at finding who killed our parents. Isn't she?” Here, Bruce turned to Jim with a strong expression. 

“Yes, she is.”

“Then she can stay. As long as it takes.” Bruce set the sketch he had been staring at throughout the whole conversation and stood up, walking up to Alfred. “I've made my decision.”

“Yes, Master Bruce.” Alfred’s answer followed Bruce out of the room. 

Feeling guilty for forcing the disagreement upon his family, because that is how Jim saw the three of them, Jim knew he had to appease Alfred. “Look, I know this is a lot, but I'm doing everything I can. Montoya, Allen and I are meeting with an ADA they trust this afternoon.”

“Oh… a trustworthy lawyer. In Gotham.” Did Alfred always have to make Jim work for it? 

“Look, if we find this guy, we'll need her. She'll have to testify before a judge. Won't be easy. Witnesses back out all the time. The ones that stick it out do so because they care about the victims.”

“We'll do our best to be nice to her, then, won't we?”

Knowing it was unfair, Jim had to continue. “And… we may have to expand our personal cover story.”

Tucking his hands behind his back, straightening up and looking over Jim’s shoulder, Alfred was the picture of a professional butler. “The cover story you left me to explain to Master Bruce, Sir? That story?” 

Wincing, all Jim could reply was, “Yes.”

“Then it will please you to hear that I have informed Bruce of the implications that some of our conversations may lead people to make and the conclusions people will draw. Master Bruce was a mite upset about the further deception but he understood the benefits of a failsafe for your and Miss Kean’s apparent rocky relationship.” Alfred was not holding his punches, was he? “I had the further pleasure of explaining to Master Bruce that, no, I do not worry about my own Bonded getting jealous because I haven’t had my Initial Conversation as of yet.”

That pulled Jim’s attention fully back to Alfred. He had been gaining curiosity on the pleasant flush of feelings that Bruce was suddenly projecting. He must be getting along with Selina… So, Jim could have been a little bit more delicate in his blurting, “Wait, you’re Manifest?” 

Rolling his eyes, Alfred spoke softly, “No, Master James, I am simply Waiting to Communicate. I have been waiting for these passed twenty-one years. I think it is safe to say that my Waiting a bit longer will not be too much of a burden upon me, nor my potential Bonded.”

Jim was almost floored. It seemed that everyone around him had unique Bonding experiences. Everyone that Jim was fairly intimate with, at least. People just didn’t talk about those still Waiting, or those who were Manifest above 20 years old. It was considered rude to ask about it. That was why Jim hadn’t asked his partner about his Bond situation. First of all, it was private, and second of all, Jim just knew Harvey would turn right back around and ask Jim about his own Bonding situation. Jim did not want to open that can of worms. But, Jim saw this comment of Alfred’s as what it was. 

The butler was letting Jim in a little, and Jim felt justly honored about it. 

“Wow, Alfred… Anyone who was WC with you is looking at the definition of ‘worth the Wait.’” 

Looking greatly touched by this comment, Alfred just nodded and they both awkwardly agreed to follow Bruce’s mandate on the Selina situation and they ended their discussion.  


  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


  
Heading straight to the DA’s office from Wayne Manor, Jim was pondering the Selina situation. If the feelings he was getting from Bruce was any indication, Bruce had no problem whatsoever with Selina visiting for a few days. Jim was glad that he could have given Bruce the chance to make a friend. He had been holed up at Wayne Manor for too long with just Alfred and Jim for company. After the Anders Preparatory Academy fiasco, Jim saw Selina’s visit as a chance for Bruce to hang out with a kid his own age. Plus, if it all comes out with the best outcome of finding their parents’ killer, Selina will be both his and Bruce’s hero. 

Still patting himself on the back for the double-benefit of having Selina at Wayne Manor, Jim walked up the steps to meet up with Montoya and Allen. They were all heading to talk to a Harvey Dent. Montoya pointed out a young well-dressed man with dark hair and eyes. He was currently talking with a teenager. Jim heard enough of their conversation to realize Dent was making a bet with the kid for the kid’s future. With a coin flip. 

“Call.” Dent said. 

“Heads.”

Dent flipped the coin in the air and caught it skillfully. He slapped his hand onto his left and waited a moment for effect. When he revealed the coin, it was heads up. The kid with him looked extremely relieved. “Walk away, kid. Somebody up there loves you.”

“Hey, Harvey.” Montoya called to catch the lawyer’s attention. 

As Dent was dismissing the kid, Jim introduced himself. “I hear good things about you, counselor.”

They shook hands. “Harvey Dent. Likewise, about you, detective.”

“Was some trick with the coin. What if he guesses wrong? Gonna send him to jail?” Jim was distrustful about the whole interaction. It reminded him critically of the Mayor. 

“Teenagers, they nearly always call heads. Don't know why.” With that, Dent flipped the coin and caught it between two fingers, displaying both sides. “Two-headed coin. Whatever works, right?” Harvey was a wily man, that was for sure. Jim decided to take it as a sign that Montoya and Allen brought him to the right person. Those were the thoughts that led Jim to accepting the invite into Dent’s office. 

Dent got right to his questions. “So who is he, Jim? Who really killed the Waynes?”

Jim really wanted to know that himself. He showed Dent the sketch that Selina described. “Well, this is what we have. No ID.” 

“But this is from an eyewitness that you have in custody.”

“It's not enough to go to the law with. Even if we had ID it's the people who hired him we want.”

“I agree. Your eyewitness is useless in a courtroom. But the idea of your witness could be immensely valuable.” Jim was coming to see that Dent was a very eloquent man. Jim was starting to realize that maybe Montoya and Allen brought him to just the right place. Dent walked around his desk and turned on a projector. An aging man in a business suit was staring powerfully at them from the screen. “Ever hear the name Dick Lovecraft?”

Yes, Jim had. He had tried to do research on all of his late parent’s peers considering who they were and who Bruce would eventually have to do business with himself. Lovecraft was one of those individuals and he was dirty, Jim knew that much. He told Dent so. 

“As corrupt as they come.” Dent agreed. “Falcone, Maroni, even Wayne Enterprises. Lovecraft has dealings with all of them.”

 _Even_ Wayne Enterprises? Jim knew about Lovecraft’s dealings, but why did Dent put that emphasis in his statement? Jim’s curiosity was piqued even more. 

Cutting into Jim’s thoughts, Montoya added, “Since the Waynes' deaths, he's doubled his fortune, including a piece of the Arkham deal.”

“Lovecraft had a long feud with Thomas Wayne over deals and politics. They couldn't have had a more different vision for Gotham. I’m willing to bet my career on his involvement in the Wayne murders.” 

Looks like Jim’s research hadn’t been good enough. This Lovecraft guy could be the one that had ordered his parents killed? Jim was reeling at the sudden intelligence. He didn’t want to get his hopes up just yet though. Jim had to be thorough in this investigation. 

“I want to use your witness to go after Lovecraft.” Dent threw out assertively. 

“How? My witness can't connect Lovecraft to the perp.” Selina only saw the face of a man who looked _nothing_ like Lovecraft. 

“Lovecraft doesn't know that. I'll let it leak out that we have a secret eyewitness who's going to blow the case wide open and connect Lovecraft to the Wayne killings. Lovecraft will get very nervous. The people around him will get nervous. And that's when people start talking, you know how that goes.” 

“Unless Lovecraft wasn't involved in the Wayne murders.”

“If so, which I doubt, we still win. Whoever was involved will get their cage rattled like the dickens, won't they? I bet he makes a move.”

“You like to bet a lot.”

Dent wasn’t going to let Jim’s doubt discourage him as he asked confidently. “What have we got to lose?”

“My witness becomes a target.” And the two who were housing her…

“No. That's the beauty of it. We never file papers. We never name names. It's just a powerful story. Your witness is perfectly safe.”

Looking to Montoya and Allen, Jim wanted to know what they thought of this plan.

Montoya sounded sincere when she said, “We've been on board, Jim. Harvey's one of us.”

“I want what you want, Jim. I want to make this city a better place.” Harvey continued.

Standing up to emphasize how sincere Jim was about his conditions if he agrees with this plan. There was no way that Jim would condone anything that could put Bruce in harm’s way, or Selina for that matter. They needed to find their parent’s killer, but not at the expense of his Bonded’s safety. Plus, Alfred would _eviscerate_ Jim if it was Jim’s fault were Bruce to come to harm. Not that Jim would stop him... “No names. Not mine. Not my witness. Nothing. Just a story.”

“Just a story.” Dent was quick to agree. 

“All right. Let's try something.” They shook on it.  


  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


  
When Jim got back to the bullpen Harvey wasn’t happy about his absence, but his partner pretended not to be interested in the reasons behind Jim being late. Apparently they had a new case about a prisoner who escaped in transit from Blackgate Prison to get psychiatric care. The prisoner had a compulsion for blowing things up, and a record of doing so.

Looking at the file, Jim noticed something interesting. “Says here he was busted out by four gunmen.”

“Yeah, which is odd. Hargrove never used accomplices.”

According to Harvey, the only person to visit Hargrove in years was his brother. Jim asked if the brother was in town.  
“Unis are bringing him now for questioning. We're lucky you deigned to show up.” Jim was no longer surprised by Harvey’s never letting anything go. 

“Yeah, sorry.” Was Jim’s dry reply. 

With a dismissive air, Harvey asked, “Girl trouble?”

“Yeah.” That was Jim’s go-to excuse. Besides, Barbara _had_ left town. 

“I told you, those high-society dames get you all twisted.” Then Harvey said very lightly, “I suspect butlers are more manageable, though…”

Damn Harvey and his ability to make Jim go scarlet. It was just undignified. Jim sniffed and went back to studying the file, ignoring Harvey’s comments. 

Jim was still pretending to give Harvey the cold shoulder when the brother of Hargrove showed up. They escorted him to the interrogation rooms and started questioning man about his knowledge of Hargrove’s motives and movements. The brother was adamant that he knew nothing except that Hargrove wasn’t a killer, just mentally ill. 

Captain Essen was not happy when they had to admit the brother was a dead end. Hargrove’s latest bombing had made the news already. Jim wondered musingly if Bruce had started his own investigation yet or if Selina was distracting his Bonded enough from his usual zeal of following Jim’s every case… 

When Captain Essen asked what evidence they did have, they had to admit the office and security footage had been destroyed. “We do know that Hargrove and his guys made off with a compound called HMX.”

“It's military grade. Ten times more powerful than C4.”

“Nasty stuff.” Harvey put it. 

Captain Essen looked frustrated as she queried, “Using explosives to steal explosives. What's that about?”

Jim only had conjectures. “Trading up? Must be another target that's hard to crack.”

“You know what I'm gonna say. So go. Do it.”

As the captain walked away, Jim’s phone began to ring. He pulled it out of his pocket and answered, “This is Gordon.”

A familiar scratchy English voice came out of the speaker. “Yes, Master Gordon. It's Alfred.”

Looking back at where Harvey was and seeing him right behind him, Jim spoke in low tones as he walked farther from his partner. He didn’t’ want Harvey’s curiosity about the butler any more piqued than it already was. “Alfred. ls everything all right? Selina okay?”

“Well, she's safe.”

“But?” Jim knew Alfred enough by now to recognize that light tone of voice. Jim was usually on the wrong side of it after all. 

“But I'm afraid this isn't going to work out. She's a tough nut, this one.”

Damn! Jim had been hoping they would get along. “Well, look, we need her help if we have any chance at catching the Waynes' killer. Just hold on to her for now. I'll be out to check on her as soon as I can.”

“We shall patiently await your arrival Master James.”

Hanging up after Alfred’s taciturn reply, Jim wondered exactly what Selina was getting up to for Alfred to want her gone so badly. Bruce seemed to be fine over the NAB, with a few momentary flares of embarrassment and chagrin that were far eclipsed by the positive emotions of curiosity/fascination/ affability. Bruce seemed to be happier than usual so Jim wasn’t going to rush anything just yet. 

Walking back to his desk, Jim sat down only for Harvey to slam and evidence box down by Jim’s elbow. “Hargrove's contacts and phone records from before Blackgate.”

“Uh-huh, yeah.” Was Jim’s extremely clever reply. 

Harvey, being the detective that he was, picked up on Jim’s distraction right away. “You all right?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jim tried to be convincing, but seeing Harvey was not going to leave it there, he added to his usual excuse. 

“Barbara left.”

“ _Left,_ left?”

“Yeah.”

“Where'd she go?”

“I don't know.”

“It's a ploy. She wants you to make a choice, between her and the butler. It's a standard move. She'll be back.” Wait, was Harvey trying to be _reassuring_? Jim was almost amazed. 

Good thing Nygma came up just at that moment, or Jim feared they would have to continue the heart-to-heart. “Do you play video games?”

Startled by the forensics scientist’s sudden appearance, Harvey growled, “Ed. Don't ever do that again.”

“My apologies. Do either of you play video games?” Jim was grateful for the interruption, but did Nygma have to be so… peculiar? “I do. I-- Ha, ha. I love video games. Each one presents a new challenge. A puzzle. A lot like detective work.”  
It was when Ed placed his hand on Jim’s shoulder that Jim knew he had to bring the scientist to topic. “Ed.”

“Oh. Sorry. I had a chance to analyze the shrapnel from the securities office. I found something. It's a name plate. It was damaged, but you can still read the information. It's from an abandoned metal factory here in Gotham.”

“That's really good work, Ed. Thanks.” Was Harvey’s grudging acknowledgement. 

They left a flustered Ed at the desks as they went to check out the factory. It was there that they found a distraught Hargrove cuffed to a desk, working on another bomb. Apparently, Hargrove had been kidnapped for his bomb-making skills to break into a vault, and was not the mastermind behind the attacks. When Hargrove’s Russian kidnappers came back, a shootout commenced. Harvey and Jim could not rescue Hargrove before he was retaken.

They heard about their failure at the GCPD from Mayor James. “Do you have any idea how many angry phone calls we've been getting this week? - Got a terrorist out there.”

Jim didn’t want to hear about the troubles the Mayor was having. The man was a patsy for the mob and Jim held no respect for him or the position of power the Mayor found himself in. Plus, the Mayor had left Jim in an unsafe position when he slipped out of Jim arresting him and Falcone. So, it may have been a little diplomatically unsound when he replied but Jim had no cares to give for this man’s opinion. “That's our fault?”

“Jim.” Captain Essen tried to stall Jim’s outpouring attitude. 

Mayor James got into James face as he said, “No. Please. You tell me, detective. How is this my fault?”

Well, if the Mayor was _asking_ , “For starters, you have the mentally ill housed at Blackgate. A prison with no facilities for them. So you send them out for treatment. Which was exactly where Hargrove was headed when he was broken out.”

The weasel of a Mayor couldn’t argue with that logic. He turned to the Captain and demanded as he left the office, “I want him found.”

“Yes, sir.” The Captain answered. She turned to Jim after the Mayor had left. “What is wrong with you? By the way, Hargrove's brother, John? I put him and his family in protective custody.”

“That'll help.” Harvey said.

“Only problem is, Hargrove doesn't know that.”  


  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


  
Jim was getting some much needed coffee when Harvey came up with a break in the Hargrove case. Harvey had run the name of the Russian Hargrave had mentioned to them in their failed attempt to rescue him. The only problem they still had was that neither of them knew who was actually bankrolling this endeavor Hargrove had found himself victim to. It could be anyone in Gotham.

As they were trying to figure out who it _might_ be (which was a long list, Jim was frustrated to find), Jim was a little preoccupied by the sensation of Bruce doing one of his ‘training’ sessions. It felt like it was the “how long can I hold my breath” one. It had the very unique effect of making _Jim_ feel like he was having what he presumed an asthma attack would feel like. Like, despite the fact the he _knew_ that he could breathe just fine, there was not enough oxygen coming to his lungs. It was very unsettling. Jim hadn’t brought it up to Bruce yet, though, because he knew the ‘trainings’ were one way his Bonded was muddling through his post traumatic symptoms. Jim would let Bruce go about his daily life with as little interference from Jim as possible. 

Besides, it would be extremely hypocritical of Jim to complain to Bruce about the NAB effects when it was usually Bruce who had to deal with the undesirable feelings of Jim’s job on a daily and more excessive basis. 

It was a welcome reprieve from his thoughts when Nygma came up in an excited frenzy, carrying a smoky piece of iron with a hole in its center. He started babbling about scientific gobbled-gook that Jim knew was English, but he could not follow. 

Apparently, Harvey was in the same boat because he interrupted Nygma in the middle of his lecture. “Okay, whoa, whoa, whoa. What about the explosives?”

“It's a very specific type. It's highly volatile, and it's very difficult to manufacture. It's for one use, and one use only. To penetrate iron.”

“Like a vault in a bank.” Jim could follow that much at least. Or so he thought. 

“Mm-mm. No, they're steel. No one makes anything out of iron anymore. Not for a hundred years.” Nygma said, questioning Jim’s supposition. 

Something in Nygma’s statement rang a bell for Harvey though because he turned to Jim and stated, “The Gotham Armory.”

Jim was suddenly right there with his partner. “Yeah. They have those iron vaults they used to keep the gunpowder in.”

“A few years ago, a private investment group bought it.”

“Ten to one Falcone's behind it.”

Jim nodded his thanks to Nygma as he and Harvey hurried to their new lead. 

The Gotham Armory had a black van already being loaded with the goods when Jim and Harvey got there. They signaled to the police cruisers to fall in as Jim provided backup as Harvey pulled his weapon and called to the Russians. “You're surrounded. There's no way out. Drop your weapons!” 

“Don't do it. Get back.” The boss of the robbery called out, his people also had their weapons drawn and pointed at the police persons surrounding them. 

Jim saw Hargrove standing in the middle of the Russians, unarmed with his hands in the air. Jim did not want the man to get hurt so he hollered, “Hargrove! Ian Hargrove, your brother and his family are safe. We have them in protective custody.”

Hargrove looked startled at being called and focused on Jim. He started to make his way out of the Russian barrier and towards Jim. The man in charge of the Russians addressed his people loudly, “If he runs, shoot him.”

“Don't shoot!” Jim yelled to the Russians. 

“You shoot him, they shoot us!” One of the robbers cried out.

Harvey joined in by yelling, “Drop your weapons!”

Throughout this whole exchange, Hargrove had been slowly making his way towards Jim and Harvey, his hands going behind his head. Jim could see that he wasn’t reacting like a mentally sound person would, just as Hargrove’s brother had claimed. It was as Hargrove came within ten feet of Jim that the notes of ‘The Final Countdown’ started to play.

Jim knew a ringtone when he heard one, and he knew what a phone ringing plus bomb made. He screamed out as he ran for Hargrove, “Get away from the truck! Everybody down!”

It was just in time, as the van exploded into a burning ball, the heatwave throwing Jim down with Hargrove. Cash started fluttering all around them, Harvey and Jim regrouped and were able to get the Russians that were still reeling from the blast into police custody. They also had to call an ambulance for a few of the men who had been too close to the van to get away safely. 

With the bookings and getting Hargrove settled, Jim wasn’t able to get to Wayne Manor the night before and with the early sting, he wasn’t able to call either. So it was that Jim was calling Alfred early the next morning. The butler answered on the second ring. 

“Morning, Alfred.” Jim greeted. 

“Master James.”

“I've been trying to get out there. Sorry. It feels like Bruce is having fun, though. Is Selina behaving herself?”

“Well, not really, no. That’s all right.”

“It is?” That was a completely different tune that Alfred was singing compared to the other day. 

“Yes, well, she's a breath of fresh air, as you can feel.”

“Glad to hear it. I'll be out there as soon as I can.”

“Very good, sir.”

After that refreshing phone call, Jim went the front desk to check for any messages. As he was there, Harvey Dent showed up wanting to talk. Jim led Dent away from listening ears. 

Looking around discreetly, Dent turned to Jim and said, “I met with Lovecraft.”

“How'd it go?”

Dent looked thoroughly smug when he claimed, “He was scared. He's involved, all right.”

“Scared isn't proof.”

“You didn't see him. Told the same story in a few other spots. All the players know. Someone will talk.”

That sounded great but Jim wanted to make sure he and Dent were on the same page. “If and when they do, neither of us makes a move without talking first. Move together on this.”

“Absolutely. Nice work on the Hargrove case. You saved the poor guy’s life. You're a regular saint.” 

As Dent was congratulating Jim, he could see Harvey enter the room behind Dent. Jim did not want Harvey to know how deep Jim was still investigating his parent’s murders. He still wanted to keep it on the down low until he came up with proof that nobody at the GCPD could fight. 

So, Jim was a little abrupt as he said, “Thanks. We'll talk again soon, I hope?”

Dent understood Jim’s non-verbal cues and walked away saying, “You bet.”

“Thanks, counselor.” Jim murmured back. With his eyes still on the fast approaching Harvey, Jim tried to be inconspicuous as he asked, “Finish up with Hargrove?”

Harvey seemed like he hadn’t noticed Jim’s exchange with the lawyer. “Yeah. He's on his way to Arkham.”

Wait, what? Did Harvey just say… “Arkham?“

“Mayor's directive. He's taking all the criminally insane inmates and sending them to Arkham for appropriate treatment.”

“That's nuts. Appropriate tr… The building's 200 years old.” Jim was so frustrated with the politicking that went on in Gotham. And, he couldn’t help but think that his comments to the Mayor earlier this week had led to this situation. Jim hated the thought that he was the cause of an ill man being subjected to that awful place. 

Of the same mind, Harvey agreed with commiseration. “Welcome to Gotham. Oh, and get this... Hargrove said the bomb that blew up the money wasn't his.”

“Whose was it?”

“He didn't know.” Great! Just one more mystery in this whole rotten city.  


  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


  
With all of the bad that Jim dealt with on a daily basis, the good that was his Bonded outweighed everything else by miles. That is why Jim visited the Wayne Manor on his way home from work that night. He needed the reminder that everything he was doing was worth something.

Alfred opened the door before Jim even got out of his car. As he was walking up, Jim could sense that Bruce was aware of his presence at the Manor. This was the first time that Jim had visited that Bruce was not right there to greet Jim as he came in. Not that Jim needed Bruce to wait on him, it just had been nice to see his Bonded anticipating Jim’s visits… 

“Alright there, Master James?” Alfred asked as Jim came close. The butler had not moved from the doorway, however, so Jim was a little apprehensive about Alfred’s intentions.

“Alright, Alfred.” Jim asserted. He stood in front of the silently smiling butler for a beat of time before he asked suspiciously. “What’s going on?”

“Not much, Master James, just some friendly fun between two young scraps.” Alfred seemed to get particular glee in this news. Jim was almost afraid to ask what Alfred meant, but fear never stopped him before so he asked. “Only, it looks like Master Bruce may have his own ‘alibi’ crush.”

Jim understood almost immediately. All of the fluxing positive emotions that Bruce had been feeling throughout Selina’s stay at Wayne Manor rushed through Jim’s recollection. The happiness, the joy, the shyness, and the yearning. Jim had been a little distracted with Hargrove, but he had taken note of the almost uncharacteristic positive feelings from Bruce. He had been grateful for Selina bringing back positive feelings to Bruce; for being a friend. Now, he didn’t know what to feel. Except that possessive resentment probably wasn’t it. It was irrational and Jim was quick to suppress any inkling of it from Bruce. He didn’t want Bruce to feel the need to deprive himself of a potential friendship just because Jim was being a caveman. It wasn’t like Bruce was going to leave Jim- they were _Bonded_!

Looking at Alfred’s serene smile, Jim just knew what the butler was thinking, and it was only fair. Jim had had… friends before he had met Bruce. Barbara being the key example. Was it fair of Jim to deny Bruce the opportunity to have some (hopefully) innocent fun with a pretty young girl? _Yes!_ Jim’s Lizard Brain yelled, but Jim squashed that down. He smiled politely back at Alfred. “That is great! Maybe he can find the love that _we_ have for one another Alfred! Everyone deserves a little happiness; don’t you think?”

Alfred’s smile turned ironic as he agreed. “Master Bruce and Miss Kyle are in the Dining Room eating dinner. Should I make a plate for you, sir?”

“No, no thank you, Alfred.” Jim said hurriedly. “It has been a long day and I just wanted to give you a quick visit before I head home. See if Selina was settled in.”

Alfred got just what Jim wasn’t saying and escorting him to the Dining Room. Bruce stood up as Jim walked in the room, seemingly dropping whatever conversation he had been in with the girl next to him. _Take that, little girl!_ was Jim’s Lizard Brain's reaction. 

“Jim!” 

Jim met Bruce half-way and gripped the back of Bruce’s neck. He wanted to embrace his Bonded, but he figured, even with the (not) rival in the room, they still had to be semi-discreet. Being the adult in the relationship was such a burden sometimes. 

“Hey, Bruce. I just came to check how things were going. Alfred said you two are getting along fine?”

Bruce’s innocent reaction did more for Jim’s irrational peace of mind than anything else could. “Yes. Selina has been a wonderful guest here.”

Selina squinched her nose in embarrassment at this statement, looking unfairly adorable as she did. Jim really need to leave and get his head on straight. Getting _jealous_ of a 14-year-old homeless girl was just ridiculous. Jim wondered how Bruce dealt with Jim’s friendship with Barbara… 

Reluctantly letting go of Bruce, Jim said to the three, “I best be getting home. This last case just ended and I could use the rest. I just wanted to say that I have put feelers out with the sketch Selina had made, and I have high hopes for a clue to turn up any day now. Sit tight in the meantime, okay?” Jim walked to the doorway and glanced back to Bruce who was still standing in the middle of the Dining Room. “I’m glad you are all getting along. Goodnight.” 

With Bruce’s quiet “Goodnight” following him, Jim made his way out and to his car. He needed to get home to rest.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Assassins, Fences, and Mayors, oh my!_   
> 

**Chapter 6**  
  
It was a cloudy day out, so Bruce and Selina were inside having fun. That is what Selina called it at least- Bruce liked to think of it as training. Balance and nerve training. In the main entry, on a banister of the spiral staircase, two floors up, to be exact. Bruce was breathless with adrenaline, but he was not going to give up while he was doing so well. He had been slowly making his way across the banister without falling for the past ten minutes. He was halfway across a section when Selina suddenly jumped up ahead of him. She seemed to have no problem with that feat of acrobats. 

The girl tapped her stomach and recommended, “Keep it tight here.” Bruce tightened up his midsection and instantly felt more secure in his position. 

However, Bruce believed that was probably enough of that kind of training at the moment. He jumped down and Selina quickly followed. As Bruce was putting his shoes back on, Selina said, “If you want to test yourself, you should come with me to the Midtown Bridge.”

“You've climbed it?” If so, that was so impressive. Bruce was greatly fascinated by everything Selina did. She was just so fearless and gutsy. 

“Yeah, to the top.” Was the girl’s nonchalant reply. Then she added, “Kids go up there to make out. All the time. I could take you, if you want.” Selina had made many references to kissing and making out in her time as a guest at Wayne Manor. Bruce did not know how to feel about that. He didn’t know if she was being serious or not. And, if she was serious, Bruce did not know how to let her down without losing their budding friendship. Selina was a very pretty girl; she was fun and feisty and spending time with her this last week has been a novel experience. Even Alfred seemed to have softened up towards her. Then again, Bruce had also witnessed how sensitive she was to touchy topics. He would let the matter lie until he came up with a solution where he could keep his secrets without hurting her in any way. 

The only reservation Bruce had about Selina staying at Wayne Manor was Jim. His Bonded had not been back since that evening he had visited during dinner, looking exhausted, and had left rather abruptly. Jim still called Alfred every night and Bruce had made an effort to obfuscate his conversation when Alfred handed the phone off to him so he could have a chance to speak to his Bonded. Their conversations seemed normal on the surface, but Bruce sensed some sort of building… worry from Jim. 

Especially when Selina was mentioned. _Jim would tell him if there had been a break from her witness report, wouldn’t he?_

However, when the phone was passed to Selina (a further obfuscation of not showcasing Jim singling out Bruce’s attention), she did not act any different and said that there was nothing new to the case when Bruce asked her. To further add to the mystery, Alfred seemed to find some great amusement as he eavesdropped in on Bruce’s side of the conversation, but would not explain his reasons. So, Bruce was left to wait for his Bonded to come clean. It was rather frustrating. 

Which is what led Bruce to the conclusion that he should spend even more time with Selina, and bring up their adventures to Jim as much as possible. Bruce knew that Jim wasn’t the type of person to let things lie. His Bonded would eventually give in and tell Bruce what was going through his head, and how in concerned Selina. So, Bruce agreed to go to the Midtown Bridge with Selina. It would have the double benefit of seeing Selina in her native habitat while also being great training. 

Selina face suddenly took on an inquisitive expression, and she asked, “What's up with all the weird homework about your mom and dad?”

Bruce had known this question was coming. He hadn’t been subtle about his investigation, after all. “I'm trying to understand why it happened.”

“There's no why. Bad stuff happens. You-you got to get over it.” There Selina went again, showing concern while simultaneously criticizing Bruce’s choices. 

“Maybe you're right.”

“Of course I'm right.” Then, almost giving Bruce whiplash in her capricious ways, Selina asked, “You want to kiss me?”

Put on the spot with that direct question, all Bruce could say was, “No, thank you.”

Folding her arms, Selina’s face looked smug as she asked, “No?” 

_Had he been accidentally leading the girl on without realizing it?_ That was the only reason why Bruce could think of for Selina’s bringing up the topic so often. He had to say something to discourage her questioning now and in the future. “I can't help feeling you have an ulterior motive. We don’t have each other’s Words, so why would you want to kiss me?”

“You think too much, kid. I'm just trying to be nice.”

With that silly statement, Bruce had to stand to showcase his skepticism. “No offense, you don't strike me as a nice person.”

Selina, obviously not being as humorous as Bruce thought she had been trying to be, asked in a guarded manner, "What do you mean? I'm nice.”

Backtracking a little, Bruce clarified. “I don't mean you're not a good person, but you're not nice. You don't care much for other people.”

With Selina’s shifting expressions, Bruce could see his clarification had actually made things worse. He was proven right with Selina’s next affronted declaration. “Screw you, orphan. Climb the damn bridge on your own.”

As Selina moved to walk passed Bruce, the doorbell rang, catching both of their attentions. _Maybe it was Jim!_ Who else would visit the Manor at this time of day?

Apparently a young woman. She was wrapped up in a shawl, and Alfred seemed to be ushering her in, as if she were injured. 

“If you could call an ambulance.” Came her tremulous voice up the stairway. 

“Where exactly are you hurt?” Alfred asked concernedly.

“Alfred.” Bruce called out, getting the two in the entrance’s attention. “Is everything all right?”

“No, Master Bruce. This lady's been involved in a car accident.”

As Alfred had his back turned to the woman, the woman’s eyes were riveted on Selina, and her distressed expression gave way to malice. 

Alfred must have seen it as well, because he exclaimed loudly, “Run. Run!” With that his butler punched the woman in the face. Bruce could hear their altercation continue as he ran after the quick back of Selina Kyle. Pushing her into a room she was about to pass, Bruce slammed the door behind them. 

“This better be a way out.” Selina sounded tense, but not scared out of her wits, like Bruce felt. He had to prevent her from noticing.

Pulling open the closet door, Bruce explained, “The old servant's hallway, it's through the closet. But I need to help Alfred!”

Before Bruce could even finish his thought, though, Selina yanked on his arm and pulled him into the closet with her. “There's no time! Bruce, come on!”

The two kids ran along the hallway and quickly out of a side window. They jumped off the second floor balcony and Selina only looked back to see if Bruce was following as they reached the hedges on the eastern land of the property. She urged him on when she noticed his hesitancy.

But, Bruce’s butler was nowhere to be seen. “Alfred might be hurt. I can't leave him.”

“He told you to run.” Selina tried to rationalize. When she saw Bruce was still stalling, she cried exasperatedly as she turned and ran away. “Fine. Stay, but I'm out.”

It was only when Bruce noticed two more intruders round the side of the Manor that his decision was taken from him and he had no choice but to follow Selina’s quickly moving form. As they ran through the copse of trees, Bruce could hear gun shots firing behind him, causing him to pick up his pace even more. He could hear Alfred’s call of his name, but nothing could stop the frantic movements of his legs. At least that cry left him with the knowledge that Alfred was still alive. 

When Selina started slowing down, what must have been miles later, Bruce knew that they were probably safe for the meantime. After he caught his gasping breath and his heartrate had returned to normal, Bruce was able to center himself to focus on Jim’s near frantic probing of the Bond. Bruce sent back the feeling of temporary safety to calm his Bonded but also to encourage Jim to find Bruce. He didn’t want to be shot today, and he _really_ wanted his Bonded right about now. Not to mention his butler. He pointed that out to Selina. “We need to call Alfred.” 

Bruce was sure his butler had immediately called Jim as soon as he could. He was just regretting leaving his personal phone on the nightstand by his bed. But, with how Jim had been calling through Alfred these past few days, Bruce hadn’t’ been keeping it on his person as religiously as he had before Selina came to stay with them. 

Gesturing with her chin to the field they were in, Selina asked, “You see any phones?”

The girl had a point but there were other options. “Perhaps we should go back to my house. If the police are there, we'll know it's safe.”

“Yeah, right. The police will make it safe?”

“We have to contact the police at some point.” Or contact, Jim. That would actually be preferable. “Someone tried to kill you.”  
“Me? Nobody knew I was there. It's your house; someone wants to kill you. Duh.”

There were many flaws in Selina’s _in-depth argument_ , but the main one Bruce could point out was, “Why would anyone want to kill me?”

“Must be all that lame detective work you're doing. Paid off good, huh?” Selina sounded condescending as she said this, which Bruce didn’t appreciate. “Cheer up. We're cool. We lost them.”

Looking into the distance, Bruce could see Gotham City, only separated from where they stood by the body of water in front of them. Selina’s inept reassurances did give Bruce some measure of peace, but _he_ was not his main concern right now. With the Bond singing proof of Jim’s secure, if worried, state, all Bruce could think of was Alfred. 

“Relax.” Selina’s voice took on a softer, less irreverent tone as she continued, “Once I got you safely hidden in the city, I'll find you a phone.”

“Thank you. I appreciate your help.”

“Hey just trying to be nice.” Bruce was probably going to never hear the end of that. He hadn’t meant for Selina to take the comment so harshly. Why did girls make _no_ sense?

Trusting Selina to not lead him astray, Bruce let the girl lead them on their journey to find a phone.  


  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


  
With sore feet and aching limbs, they made it into the city by late afternoon. The neighborhood that Selina had led him to was not the most reputable, but Bruce didn’t care. He never thought he would be so happy to see a dingy payphone in his life. 

Bruce ran to pick up the receiver but he was hindered by a sudden realization. “I don't I don't carry coins.” He turned to Selina and asked if she had any.

“Nope. Not a dime,” Selina said, sighing and shrugging. “Why does Alfred matter so much to you anyway? He's just your butler.”  
Alfred wasn’t _just_ anything! “He's my family. Him and Jim.”

That seemed to quieten Selina like nothing had so far. Bruce didn’t have the inclination to try to figure the girl out at the moment though. He had to call Alfred to make sure he wasn’t hurt. He was brought out of his distracted musings by Selina tapping him in the chest. Looking down, Bruce saw the coin held between Selina’s forefinger and thumb. He accepted it gratefully and immediately picked up the receiver on the payphone to call Alfred right that moment.

Selina started backing up as she said, “Good luck, kid. See you around maybe.”

“What?” Bruce hung up the phone to give Selina his full attention. “Wait!” 

“Look those bad guys were there for me. Not you. You have nothing to worry about. Go home.”

“But you said...”

“I was just trying to freak you out. I was playing with you.”

That comment shifted Bruce’s confusion to anger. “You were playing with me? That's kind of cruel, isn't it?”

“Yeah. No, look, you're right about me. I'm not nice. Not like you.” Selina shrugged and she looked sincere. “You got a nice way about you.”

“’A nice way?’” That sounded like she was calling Bruce fragile, or unguarded or something... Which Bruce _was not_ , thank you very much. 

“Yeah. That's why I said that thing about you being the target, so, you know, we could hang out a while longer.”

Oh. Did that mean that Selina had been having as much fun as Bruce had this last week? Did she see him as a friend as well? “I see. That's very convoluted reasoning.”

“Whatever. Anyhow, it's been cool. I'm gonna disappear.”

“But you can't do that!”

“I wasn't asking.” Selina tried to defend, but Bruce cut in quickly. 

“You can't disappear! You have to come back home with me. When Jim finds the man who killed my parents, you have to testify.”  
With a disbelieving shake of her head, Selina sounded incredulous as he asked, “You really think that was ever going to happen? Grow up, B.” And she was off, up on the fire escape lining the building they had stopped to argue in front of. 

Bruce wasn’t going to let her get away that easily, though. He quickly threw himself after the girl. She _had_ to testify! Jim’s and his investigation was at a standstill without her. As Bruce made it to the rooftop, Bruce was just in time to see Selina jump across a gap between the building he was on and the one next to it. When he got to the edge, he saw that the distance between buildings was greater that he initially guessed. Selina had stopped and was standing across the way, looking so proud of evading him. Well, Bruce was not going to have that! He wasn’t going to be left behind again!

Bruce turned and gained some distance, readying himself for the jump. Selina’s suddenly called out in an alarmed voice, “No, don't! You won't make it!”

But he _would_. He had to do his best to try at least. As Bruce picked up speed, he waited until he was at the edge before he propelled himself across the gap. His feet touched down on the ledge of the other side, but he started to lose his balance backwards. He only had time to gasp out, “Help,” before Selina was pulling him off the ledge and onto the neighboring rooftop.

“You're crazy.” The girl exclaimed. 

That may be so, but he had proved to himself that he could do it. With help, but still... It was a work in progress. He entreated to Selina, “Please don't run off again. I'm out of breath.”

Smiling wryly, Selina agreed. “Okay, kiddo. You earned it. You want to hang with me, that's cool, but my world, my rules. You do what I say.” Selina had taken on a very authoritative stance at that last bit. 

Quick to bow down in the face of her expertise, Bruce agreed to her terms. “Yes, ma'am.” 

With that they both took off across the rooftops of Gotham. It was only a couple of blocks away that Selina led them down a fire escape and through a hall window in to a dark and musty building. 

As they made their way down the stairs, Bruce couldn’t help but ask again, “Why can't I call Alfred or Jim to let them know I'm okay?”

“Because we're disappearing. You got to be like smoke. Smoke doesn't make phone calls.” Selina frowned at Bruce and led him into a bright auditorium filled with young poorly dressed people and many miscellaneous merchandise. Many of the young persons were playing music or just hanging out together. Bruce knew he was being too obvious in his interest with their surroundings, but he couldn’t help it. 

“Here,” Selina thrust a bundle of clothes into his arms. “You gotta blend in better, so put these on.” 

Bruce looked at the assortment of clothing he had in his arms. “How did you guess my size…?”

“Just put them on,” was Selina’s exasperated reply. 

Bruce nodded his agreement and made his way to a more private area where he could change. After he had done so, he found Selina waiting for him. 

“Much better.”

“Really? I'm not sure.” The clothes were like nothing Alfred had ever bought for him. It wasn’t that they were uncomfortable… just different. 

“You look badass. No lie.” Was Selina’s gratifying assurance. 

A high voice suddenly broke into their discussion. “Hey, Cat.”

Looking around some plastic tarp, Bruce and Selina saw a small girl with frizzy ginger hair and a dirty green sweater on. Selina made for the girl quickly, wrapping her in her arms. 

“Ivy what are you doing here? What have you been up to? I thought…”

“Yeah, Juvie caught me. I got adopted upstate.”

“Didn't take?” Selina sounded sympathetic.

“Good people they wanted me to cut my hair, dress nice.”

Bruce knew the girl looked familiar, and he didn’t have to think hard about where he had seen her before. “I know you. You're Mario Pepper's daughter.”

“Yes.” The girl was on an immediate defensive. “Who are you?”

“I'm Bruce Wayne.”

“Yes, you are. Billionaire Bruce Wayne.” Ivy’s tone was distinctly off-putting.

Breaking in with a soothing tone, Selina said to the girl, “Stay cool now, Ivy.”

“I am cool. Why are you telling me that? Why are you telling me what to do?”

“I'm not. I'm just saying, I don't want you to get mad at him. He's a friend.”

“Why would I get mad at him? It's not his fault, is it?” The aggressive girl then turned her hostile gaze towards Bruce. “Did you kill my father? Do you make my mother cut her wrists?”

“No.”

Ivy looked back and forth between Bruce and Selina. “Somebody did... somebody did, but not him. How you doing? You doing okay?” This was aimed at Bruce.

“I'm okay. And you?”

“I'm doing great. How do I look?” She had red-rimmed eyes, her hair was in disarray and she had a distinctive hungry expression on her face, as if she could use a meal or two. 

There was only one answer Bruce could give, though, he knew _that_ much. “You look good.”

Selina brought them back to the issue at hand. “Have you seen Clyde the fence around?”

“Yeah, he's working out of the Factory on the Narrows.” Ivy then gestured with her chin at Bruce. “He's cute, isn't he?”

“Yes, he is.” Bruce flushed as Selina gabbed his arm and started dragging him away. “Uh, thanks, Ivy. Good to see you. Uh, we got to go run and see Clyde.”

Ivy’s despondent voice followed them out. “Oh. Okay, fine. Bye, then.”

When Bruce attempted to look back for a final farewell, Selina jerked him and growled. “Keep moving.”

“She's just a little girl. Why are you so scared of her?”

“Because she's scary. Don't look back.”

As they were making their way to the Narrows, Bruce felt the unfortunately familiar sensation of Jim getting in a fight, being choked and then losing consciousness. It was very difficult to hide his reactions from Selina. He played it off as being overwhelmed by the dirty surroundings of downtown Gotham, but it was a near miss. Now Selina probably thought Bruce was a stuck up snob or something. The things he did for his Bonded. Bruce could still sense Jim’s life though, so he supposed he would be able to scold Jim for always getting into trouble. 

Good thing it wasn’t long before Jim regained consciousness. Bruce didn’t know how long he could keep up his stoic façade. He sent out his reprimands through the Bond and got an almost sardonic feeling in reply. Chagrined, Bruce supposed he may be in a little bit of trouble himself, but _Selina_ was with him. He would be okay. He didn’t know the same for Jim, so he felt justified in his sending back indignation and reassurances in turn. 

As the sun began to go down for the day, they seemed to finally reach their destination. Selina led them in to another disreputable location filled with a rag-tag bunch of people. Though, these were of a much older demographic than The Flea had held. 

Sitting behind a base lit desk, a man with a squat face called out to Selina as they entered what looked to be an office of sorts. “Cat! My baby!”

“Hey, Clyde.”

“Well what have you got for me?” The man steepled his hands and smiled at them. 

Selina reached into her jacket and a very familiar assortment of items was placed on the table in front of the man. 

“Hey!” Bruce exclaimed.

Selina shot him a quick glanced and sshed at Bruce’s cry. 

“Wow. Sweet swag. Not your usual junk.”

“Moving on up.”

Clyde picked up one of his father’s watches and dangled it from his hand. “Where'd you get this?”

“You want a story or the swag?”

“How much?”

“Thousand bucks.”

The man snickered derisively. “Please. Give me a break.”

“That's rock-bottom, you know it is.”

“Fifty bucks.”

What?! His family’s possessions would not be sold for such a trivial amount of money! “Fifty? This pen is real gold, and that's an antique jade netsuke. It's worth $2,000 on its own.”

“And who is this well-spoken little… dude?”

“Never mind who he is. Look, 500 is rock-bottom. Why are you wasting my time?”

The man slowly stood and gestured placatingly around. “Relax. I'm sure we can make a deal.”

Selina seemed to only take a moment to make her decision. “No, thanks. We'll go elsewhere.”

As the girl grabbed the items back and turned to go, Clyde slammed his fist onto the table. 

“Cool down, Cat. Or we'll poke your little friend's eyes out.” Clyde swirled his finger mockingly at Bruce, and Bruce was grabbed from behind in a tight grip. “That's it. Relax. I've got some friends coming over who would just love to meet you.”

With that, the two men that were holding on to Bruce and Selina started dragging them out of the room. They ended up on the second floor of the warehouse, locked in. 

They both simultaneously looked up at the massive skylight in the ceiling. Selina immediately started grabbing items to stack up to reach said skylight. Seeing no other way, Bruce immediately started to contribute to the endeavor. They worked in harried silence until Selina reached the window. She started tugging at the chain to open the window, to no avail. She called quietly down to Bruce, “Find me something heavy.” 

Glancing around frantically, Bruce spied a bit of metal. He tossed it up to the girl who immediately started smacking at the wheel of the window. Bruce couldn’t help but let out a breath of relieved laughter when Selina got the chain moving on the wheel. The window started to slowly open with each tug at the chain. Selina paused suddenly, as if to listen, and Bruce heard it as well. Footsteps were approaching the room they were being held in. 

Jumping down from the tower they had built, Selina ushered Bruce into a corner behind some furniture. They were silent as the door opened and a man walked in. His gaze immediately went to the open skylight and Selina took that chance to bash him upside the head and run out the opened door. Bruce could do nothing but try to keep up. That was becoming an increasingly familiar action this past day…

They made their way down the stairs and hid again behind some crates. Bruce heard the sounds of gunfire outside and inside the warehouse and crouched further down. Peeking over the crate he was hiding behind, he cursed himself as he got the attention of the woman who had invaded the Manor that very morning. He gestured agitatedly at Selina when she gave him an interrogative look. 

“Bruce!” Alfred’s scream echoed around the warehouse. Bruce knew what he had to do then. He had to find Alfred, and he had to guide these people away from Selina. They weren’t after _him_ anyway. 

“Follow!” A woman’s harsh command pursued Bruce as he scurried out of his hiding place and towards Alfred’s scream.

Bruce ran quietly up the stairs again and reached the top just in time to see two men run by below him. He was panting in fear, but he could feel Jim’s proximity and he knew Alfred was near too. He just had to get to either of them. He couldn’t help but send Jim feelings of urgency and a wish he was there with Bruce. _Come get me, now!_

Bolstering himself with Jim’s frantic encouragement, he grabbed up some pipes and made his way to the banister of the second floor. He saw the woman and started flinging them at her, crying out at each miss. 

When he ran out of ammunition, the woman flung herself upon some chains and started hauling herself up. Bruce turned to run up another flight of stairs, but his ankle was grabbed out from under him and he fell upon them. The woman got into his face and asked menacingly, with a gun pointed at him, “Where’s your girlfriend?” 

Bruce saw movement in the corner of his eye, but forced himself not to glance over there. “I have no idea.”

“Don't make me hurt you. You're not on the contract.”

“She's gone.” Bruce confessed as Selina disappeared out the window.

The woman lowered her gun and spoke disgustedly, “Some advice, kid: don't ever mistake bravery for good sense.”

There was the sound of another gun being cocked, and Alfred appeared below them. He had his weapon pointed confidently at the woman above Bruce, who… wasn’t there anymore. She must’ve moved quickly when Bruce was distracted by his relief at seeing Alfred. 

“Alfred.” Bruce stood and tried to gather back his dignity. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“You all right?”

“I'm fine. How are you?”

Alfred holstered his gun and made his way up to where Bruce was standing. “You really scared us, Master Bruce. If you die… who employs butlers anymore?”

Alfred’s wavering voice, and his sad blue eyes were the last straw to this stressful day. Bruce’s face crumpled with emotion as he threw his arms around Alfred’s shoulders. The butler hugged him just as tightly. 

After they pulled themselves together, Alfred escorted Bruce out of the warehouse with a hand upon his shoulder. They both saw Jim cuffing Clyde’s men and pushing them into police cruisers. Jim glanced their way and his Bonded’s face broke out in relief. Jim glanced at Harvey who gave an eye-roll and grudging nod. Jim slammed the door to the police cruiser closed and ran up to Bruce and Alfred. His Bonded grabbed Bruce behind his neck, and Alfred upon his shoulder. 

The familiar affection stole away Bruce’s recently regained composure and he threw his arms around both Jim and Alfred this time, bringing them all into an embrace. His whole family was here and they were safe. He didn’t care about anything else.  
“Thank God, thank God.” Jim was muttering into Bruce’s hair. 

“Well isn’t this cute. Two daddies with their boy, safe and sound.” Jim’s partner, Detective Bullock’s voice broke their moment up decidedly. Even if Bruce wasn’t disgruntled at the interruption, the implication of “daddies” was too much to stand.

Jim seemed to agree with Bruce. “Oh, stuff it, Harvey. Couldn’t let me have a minute, could you?”

“Well, all the feels were starting to give me hives, so, for the sake of my personal health, no, I couldn’t.”

Alfred broke in before the two detectives could get into a more serious row. “If you two gents don’t mind, I think that I should be getting Master Bruce back home. And I’ll be taking this car to do it.” Alfred started pulling Bruce towards Harvey’s parked car across the street. Alfred bundled Bruce into the back seat and closed the door behind him, then turned back to the bemused detectives and cleared his throat. “James, will you be stopping by tonight?”

Nodding earnestly, Jim said, “As soon as I get all these lowlifes booked and the casework settled, I will come see you guys. I’ll be there, don’t worry.”

Detective Bullock was making immature faces behind Jim’s back, his lips puckered obnoxiously and his eyes fluttering worryingly. Bruce didn’t see how Jim could work with the man, really. 

“Right, well, until later then.” With that Alfred rounded the car, got in and started driving away. Bruce tried to keep his eyes on Jim as they drove away, but they turned a corner too quickly. The rest of the drive was a blur of movement and late night city lights. When they got to the countryside road that led to Wayne Manor, Bruce was well on his way to dozing. 

They parked and Alfred ushered Bruce out of the car and into the house. Despite his expectations, Alfred dragged Bruce to the kitchen and placed him on a stool. “Just need a spot of calming tea before we head to bed.” Bruce was a little confused, _Alfred usually didn’t like Bruce in his ‘domain,’_ but Alfred’s constant glances at Bruce between his tea preparations gave Bruce a clue about what this was about. Alfred must have been as worried about Bruce as Bruce had been about him. It warmed Bruce’s heart to have such a caring friend and family member. 

So, Bruce sat quietly and watched sleepily as Alfred finished up the tea. Placing a pot on a tray with cups, a spout of milk, some sugar and honey, Alfred indicated Bruce should start heading to bed. They made their way upstairs and to Bruce’s room. As Alfred set the tea down onto a side table and started making both of them tea the way they preferred, Bruce took the time to change into some pajamas. He did feel a brief flash of anxiety at being out of eyesight of Alfred, but he scolded himself for being childish and pushed the anxiety down.

Alfred’s sheepish expression at Bruce’s return to his room made Bruce feel a little better about his own anxiety. Alfred and Bruce drank their tea slowly, but Bruce could not keep his eyes from drifting closed. A hand gently prying the empty tea cup from his grasp roused him a little more. Alfred’s reassuring “I’ll just have myself a little read tonight” as he settled into the side chair by Bruce’s bed and opened a book. That was the image Bruce’s sleepy mind last registered before he fell asleep. 

It must have been a few hours later that Bruce was woken from his slumber by a weight sitting on his bed next to him. A rough hand started running through Bruce’s hair, the feeling of _safe/home/calm/love_ ushering him back to sleep. Jim.  
In the morning, Bruce woke up to see his Bonded resting his head on the bed from his sitting position in the side chair. Bruce took that moment to just study his Bonded. Jim’s short hair was growing in a little, and he had worry lines forming around his mouth and between his eyebrows, his suit was wrinkled and, frankly, he smelled like he hadn’t showered in a few days. All that combined could not detract from how beautiful Bruce found Jim to be. Bruce really couldn’t have asked for a better Bonded.  
Bruce was brought out of his admiration as Jim’s phone started going off from his jacket pocket on the chair back. Snorting awake, Jim scrambled half blindly at his jacket pocket and answered groggily “’lo.”

The sound of Detective Bullock’s raucous voice came through loud and clear. “Jimmy boy! Hope I didn’t interrupt your life-affirming interactions with that butler, but we got a situation here. The Captain said Mayor James is on his way and she wants both of us here for it. Dent will be here too.”

“Fine. Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Jim grumbled, his regretful gaze landing on Bruce.

“And don’t forget to bring my car back!” Detective Bullock’s voice cut off as Jim hung up on him. 

Sighing, Jim slumped back onto Bruce’s bed. Bruce took that opportunity to run his own hand along his Bonded’s close shorn hair. “It is alright, Jim. I understand. Thank you for coming by and staying last night.”

“Yes, thank you Master James.” Alfred’s voice from the doorway roused Jim enough to get up and put his jacket back on. As Jim leaned over to put his shoes on as well, Alfred continued. “Please remember to bring up our discussion to that Captain of yours, sir.”

“Yeah, yeah, Alfred. Don’t worry, I won’t forget.” Jim finished with his shoes and gave Bruce a considering look. Jim slowly reached out and caught Bruce’s cheeks in his hands. Bruce felt said cheeks heat up as Jim’s face came closer and his Bonded placed their foreheads together. Jim’s blue eyes stared searchingly into Bruce’s and he spoke gently, “Don’t do that to me again, okay? You are not allowed to be in danger at all.”

Feeling a little choked up, all Bruce could do was nod and press his forehead back into Jim’s. With a final squeeze, Jim let Bruce go and left the room. 

Later that day, after breakfast, the pleasant buzz that Jim’s physical affections brought Bruce were severely dampened when Alfred marched into the sitting room and turned on the television. Mayor James was giving one of his infamous speeches.  
_“Dick Lovecraft's suicide is a terrible, terrible tragedy. Fighting the trumped-up charges of an overzealous police officer was too much for him. You have my word, Dick. This officer is being dealt with.”_

With a disgusted snort, Alfred turned the television back off. “Just like the powers in Gotham. Stringing Master James up to take the fall.”

“What does that mean for Jim?” Bruce asked worriedly.

Shrugging sympathetically, Alfred could only say, “Master James will likely tell us as soon as he knows.”  


  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


  
That evening, as Bruce was contemplating the recent events, and Jim’s current leave of absence at his work, his thoughts were interrupted by a voice from behind him. “Your security still sucks.”

Bruce turned and smiled at Selina, thankful to see she was alright. “No one's hunting for me. I didn't expect to see you again.”  
“Never said good-bye.”

“No, we didn't.”

“Didn't want to be rude.” Yes, Bruce would be hearing about that for a while. 

“It-it's good to see you.”

Selina answered by shoving a paper bag towards Bruce. “Here.”

Inside the bag were the items Selina had been planning to fence. Bruce closed the bag and tried to hand it back to Selina. 

“Thank you, but you could keep this. You need it more than I do.”

“Nah, let's keep things honest between us. I'm keeping this one anyway.”

Bruce stepped closer to get a better look at the Egyptian case with the symbol of the Goddess Isis on it. When he glanced back at her to say something, it flew from his mind as she ducked in and kissed him on his lips. There was a knock at the door and, smirking roguishly, Selina left as silently as she had come.

His first kiss! Bruce had thought it would be his Bonded who would give him that and now it was taken by a street kid. What was he going to tell Jim? _Should_ he even tell Jim? After all, _Jim’s_ first kiss hadn’t been Bruce. So, maybe it was fair…. 

Alfred walked in with a smile on his face. “Having a little chat, Master Bruce?”

Flustered, Bruce couldn’t come up with a better excuse than, “Thinking out loud.”

“Right. Right. Of course you are.” Alfred came in and closed the window. Alfred then gestured to the bag of stolen goods that Bruce had instinctually hid behind his back. Bruce sheepishly handed it to Alfred. “The old house seems very quiet without her, doesn't it?”

“Yes, it does.” Bruce then asked the question that had been on his mind for the whole afternoon. “Will Jim be able to return to the GCPD when we get back?”

“Master James is just taking a leave of absence.” Alfred reassured. “That Captain of his was able to convince Mayor James that he just needs a bit of perspective to get his head back in the game.”

“Alfred?” Bruce asked after a few moments contemplating Alfred’s non-answer. When Alfred gave a noise of acknowledgement, Bruce continued quietly, “Is it wrong of me to be happy that Jim was given a leave of absence?”

“No, Master Bruce, I can truly say it is not.” Alfred affirmed with a squeeze to Bruce’s shoulder. “One cannot be anything but selfish when it concerns one’s Bonded. Now, don’t you think it would be a grand idea to finish packing? I will see to things on my end and Master James will be here first thing in the morning so we can fly out.”

Quick to comply, Bruce made his way to his room to put the final touches to his personal luggage. Alfred would provide for anything Bruce may miss and the _White Ace_ came fully stocked in case the Wayne’s show up at any time of the year. Bruce was excited to finally get the Bonding time they needed since their Initial Conversation. Jim had been so busy, and Bruce had been just as busy with all the hurdles he had to overcome these past few months. Even though Jim felt a bit disgruntled over the Bond, his major feelings of relief and excitement put any worries Bruce had about his greedy wishes to rest. Jim needed and wanted this vacation just as much as Bruce did. 

Bruce couldn’t wait to show Jim all of his favorite past times in Switzerland!  


  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


  
When they made it to the Wayne Chalet in Gstaad, Switzerland, all three were exhausted. They had flown in a private jet and had made record time in just under twelve hours of travel time. On the plane, the three had engaged in some light hearted discussions on what their itinerary for the stay would be while they stayed at the Chalet. Bruce had thought Jim may have seen the flight as a novelty, but Jim reminded Bruce that he had flown overseas when he was enlisted in the army. Bruce had remembered that Jim had been in the army, he had just never given it much thought because Jim didn’t bring it up that often. Well, now they would have time to share many things about one another that they hadn’t had time to do before. 

The actual reality of _White Ace_ was what finally brought an impressed expression to Jim’s face, and Bruce tried to see it how Jim was, despite having come to stay here every year since he could remember. It was a truly exceptional stand-alone chalet near the center of Gstaad. There was a beautiful valley and mountain backdrop and the Chalet was surrounded by terraces and a garden creating maximum privacy for the Waynes. 

Smiling at Jim’s awed face, Alfred got out of the car to open the door for Jim. Jim pulled his eyes away from their surroundings long enough to give Alfred an exasperated look. Bruce wondered how long Jim would keep trying to discourage Alfred from acting like a butler. Bruce had given up long ago and had come to appreciate Alfred’s service and support. Bruce thanked Alfred as he opened his door and accepted his personal luggage from Alfred when offered. 

“This way, sirs.” The two Bonded males followed the butler into the Chalet from the inner door in the attached garage they had pulled the car into. “Master Bruce, as the head of the Wayne household, will be in the Master Bedroom on the top floor. Master Jim will be in the room next to mine. We will place our luggage into our respective rooms and get settled a bit. I will kip to the kitchen and start our meal, so I’ll leave the tour to Master Bruce.”

Bruce had known that he would be placed in the Master bedroom, but seeing it stripped of the old décor and furnishings and replaced with new ones relieved a worry he hadn’t fully realized he had held. Bruce _was_ the head of their household now, and it was only right that he would get the Master bedroom. It was only that he had dreaded seeing the curtains his mother had picked out hanging in the window, or the sitting chair that his father had loved to sit in and admire the view from the terrace window. It would have been hard to endure. 

But, like in all things, Alfred must have anticipated how Bruce would feel about the room and had arranged for a change. The Master bedroom still followed the ironic black theme of the _White Ace_ , but the decorative curtains had been exchanged for plain black ones, the bedspread now only had white sheets and a velvet black throw over, and the sitting chair was nowhere to be seen. It was simple and elegant, as was Bruce’s preference. Upon further investigation, Bruce also saw that the attached bathroom had none of his parents’ toiletries any longer and Bruce’s own had taken their place. Yes, Bruce could make this transition into this room just fine.

After he had unpacked his personal bag, Bruce went in search of Jim. He knew that Jim would be in the gray room as it was the only one that was next to Alfred’s end room. Walking up to the open doorway, Bruce gently tapped on the wall outside the room to get Jim’s attention. It looked as though Jim had already unpacked his meager travel case and was just looking out the French windows. Bruce could see Jim’s almost melancholy expression in the floor to ceiling mirror fade to a more welcoming one as he turned to face Bruce. 

“Wow, Bruce, this is just…” Jim shook his head and held his hand out. Bruce took the hint and entered Jim’s room. Moving to accept the offer, Bruce loved how Jim’s entwined their fingers as his Bonded pulled Bruce to gently guide him into the spot next to Jim. Looking out the window, Jim said, “I know you are probably used to all this… finery, or whatever you would call it, but I may need a bit of time to adjust.”

They sat like that for a few more minutes before Bruce had to reluctantly break the calm. “Jim, Alfred always makes a light meal whenever we have had a long travel. I want to give you the tour before he gets done. The kitchen will be the end of our tour and we can eat then.”

“That sounds great, Doll. Lead the way.”

So, Bruce showed Jim the rest of the rooms on the first floor, all equipped with double-sized beds, access to the terrace, and televisions. Jim was impressed by the office focused around a glass table, sliding doors separating it from the cinema room, well-equipped gym, and the sauna bath. The living area was furnished with modern and comfortable black pieces, surrounding a roaring fire Alfred must have set. Bruce pointed out his bedroom on the second floor, but thought it was probably time to get to Alfred, so he led Jim to the kitchen which hosted an open plan with a center island. 

Alfred had already set the long table with three placements of eating ware. On the island sat soup in a glass display bowl and salad in an alpine wood container. There was the scent of warm bread, which must be what was in the baskets set in the center of the table. 

It was only when Jim disengaged their hands at Alfred’s critical glance that Bruce realized that he had led Jim throughout the Chalet by the hand. He couldn’t keep the flush in as he sat down at the head of the table. Jim sat to his right and Alfred started serving their dinner. 

“All settled then?” The butler asked when they were all seated.

Jim had already started on his salad and thus had his mouth full, so Bruce answered for them. “Yes, we have both unpacked and are ready to see the sights tomorrow.”

Alfred took a contemplative sip of his soup before he looked to Jim. “That sounds grand, but we do have to smooth out our plan of camouflage for the admiring public. Master Bruce has not been back to Switzerland since his parents passed. He is going to be the focus of some interest while we are here.”

Knowing Alfred was right did not leave Bruce feeling any sort of acceptance. He had been to the _White Ace_ for many years now, and while he had garnered some attention, it was mostly as the child prop for his parents. People were interested in billionaire Thomas Wayne and his beautiful Bonded, Martha. Now it would be billionaire Bruce Wayne they would focus on. 

Jim speaking up drew both of the other’s attention. “I am a recently disgraced detective who decided to run away with his sugar daddy lover who happens to be the guardian slash butler of the heir to Wayne Enterprises.” The sardonic smile on Jim’s face brought a smile to Bruce’s face.

Said butler rolled his eyes and said, “Yes, Master James. I have been bewitched by a lowly civil servant, but the heart wants what it wants.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t call me ‘Master James’ while we are here, Alfred. Unless you think that kink would help our cover a little better?”

Their teasing of one another was most probably for Bruce’s benefit, he thought. They could tell how disappointed he was with the need for a cover even here. Bruce understood the need, but he wished it wasn’t so. Maybe if he had been a normal boy from a normal household… but no. No use would be had from ineffective wonderings. So, Bruce let himself laugh a bit at their antics. It was a way to let them know that Bruce was onboard with the farce. However, there was one topic they had shied away from the whole trip here and Bruce wanted some answers. “Jim, what exactly is the situation with your job that we left behind in Gotham?”

Jim’s despondent sigh almost made Bruce take back the question, but he _had_ to know how much trouble Jim was in. To see if there was any way Bruce could help. “I guess now is as good a time as any… I need to tell you both that the Captain knows about my Bonding situation.”

Alfred slowly lowered his spoon back into the soup bowl and asked in an icy tone, “What?” 

“I had to! Captain Essen is totally trustworthy; she has been more supportive of my… unique viewpoint on crime in Gotham ever since the Sionis case. _And_ she has a Bonded of her own. I had to tell her when she tried to assign me to the Arkham Asylum on the Mayor’s behalf.” Here Jim’s defensive posture collapsed and his voice went a little bitter. “I knew you wanted to take Bruce away from the… bad of Gotham after the assassins came to Wayne Manor. I also knew that our young Bond could probably not take the distance. So, I explained to Captain Essen that my Bonded was leaving town and I had to go with him. I never said names, so she probably assumed I meant you, Alfred.”

“Naturally.” Alfred derisively cut in.

“ _So,_ Captain Essen was able to convince the Mayor to let me have an unpaid leave of absence in place of being assigned guard duty at Arkham. I think he actually approved up the unpaid part the most. He probably didn’t want to keep me on the payroll after I… could not hide my disdain for his decisions in recent cases.” 

“Will you be able to get your job back when we return to Gotham?” Bruce could not hide the worried waver in his words. Jim _loved_ being a detective. Bruce was proud of how good and honest Jim had stayed throughout his trials in Gotham. Bruce’s own investigations showcased exactly what a feat that was, and how many people failed to stay good and honest in the past. However, those who had bent to the pressures of conforming to Gotham’s corruption still had jobs while honest Jim had lost his. How was that fair? “If you don’t, I’m sure I could find you a position at Wayne Enterprises. We could always use new guards there, right Alfred?”

His Bonded and Alfred shared one of those incomprehensive looks before Jim turned back to Bruce. “Doll, I appreciate your offer. I love that you can be so kind. But… I need to figure out this situation myself first. I have not given up on my job at the GCPD. Harvey said he would keep me informed of what is happening in Gotham and he will inform me if he finds a solution that will allow me to return to the GCPD.”

Bruce could sense Jim’s determination and drive so he dropped the subject for the moment. The rest of the meal’s conversation was on planning the attractions they would visit and the activities they would participate in during the next few weeks. Bruce decided that he would cherish this time with his Bonded and family and enjoy the experience with no worries getting in the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Chalet mentioned looks something like [this.](http://www.luxuryretreats.com/vacation-rentals/switzerland/swiss-alps/gstaad/white-ace-114914)  
> Special thanks to Lizzy B, BlueStar1937, Lizzy+B, Mesonoxian, and Deena S. for your wonderful and supportive comments.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi ho, hi ho, Back to work Jim goes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be going on vacation for the next three weeks. I do not know if I'll have time to update, but I will give it my best. 
> 
> To sort of make up for this, I _attempted_ to draw my favorite scene to portray with Jim and Bruce. It is located on my [ tumblr.](http://blockovich.tumblr.com/) Like I say there, the real dream is that someone will take pity on my poor attempts and draw a scene for themselves;).

**Chapter 7**  
The view outside the French Windows was as breathtaking two weeks in as the first day they had arrived. In the dawn light, Jim could see into the village the picturesque promenade and numerous shops, restaurants, and art galleries. Bruce had insisted that they visit each and every location first. They had then gone on every adventure Gstaad had to offer; skiing, hiking and biking. 

Jim's favorite part of this leave though was quiet nights by the fire in the _White Ace_. Jim appreciated that Alfred was enjoying the vacation with them, not standing on as much ceremony as he would at Wayne Manor. Those quiet nights had given Jim and Bruce the chance they needed to complete the second phase of the Bond. The first phase was the Initial Conversation. The second phase was a more intimate learning of each other in a mental facet. The third phase usually followed the second quite closely in most Bonds. However, since Jim and Bruce had such a unique Bond, they would be waiting almost exactly 5 years now to complete their Bond fully. The third phase being ‘an attuning of the physical with the mental.’ In other words, sex. 

During their mental connecting they would both sit closely together and place a hand on each others' temple. This allowed their minds to connect more deeply. They could both transmit thoughts and feelings more easily that way, with only exact words being beyond the second phase of the Bond. That left them with having to speak out loud. At those times, they would wait for Alfred to go to prepare dinner so they would have a half hour to an hour each night to work on their Bond in privacy. 

Bruce had been more open about his fears (darkness and bats, of all things) and hesitations (starting a Bond so young with an older Bonded and not being good enough. Jim was quick, and probably _too_ adamant, in his denial of that fear), his hopes and dreams (that they would be together forever and Bruce would one day have an equal role in supporting and protecting his Bonded). That he loved detective work and wanted to always help Jim on his cases. Jim had to include a caveat in his agreement of that. 

He needed Bruce to stop paying for information on Jim’s cases behind his back. He wanted Bruce to ask Jim first, and then Jim would do his best to include Bruce a little more in informing the kid about Jim’s well-being). Bruce had also confessed both his troubles and gratefulness for the Bond (Jim had known that Bruce was getting NAB effects when Jim was in a physical altercation, but he hadn’t realized _how sensitive_ Bruce was to it (Jim vowed to himself and to Bruce to try to avoid getting hurt even more from now on. They both knew, however, that Jim could not keep from _ever_ being hurt. Not with this job). 

And Bruce had confessed that his first kiss had been stolen by Selina Kyle. That had spiked a little bit of irrational jealousy in Jim, but he had to acknowledge that Selina had only been acting her age and it was understandable that she would want to kiss Bruce. That, and what did Jim expect? Bruce was about to get hit by puberty with a two-by-four and Jim was not available to explore the more… sexual feelings Bruce would be experiencing. Bruce might seek out his peers for the physical intimacy that he would not get from Jim until he was legal. Jim didn’t have to like it but he would also not stand in the way of Bruce’s possible explorations. However, Jim could not bring himself to give full permission for Bruce to do so. He didn’t forbid in either, though, and that was as much maturity Jim was willing to display. So, he forced himself to laugh at Bruce’s confession and to say it was only natural that Selina would want to kiss such a handsome young man. At which, Jim’s favorite blush appeared on Bruce’s face along with relief from the kid at Jim taking it _so well_. 

Jim had disclosed details about himself in return. He tried to be completely truthful while not bombarding Bruce with the gorier details of his time in the army, his time working as a Special Forces Veteran with the Chicago PD, and some of the cases in Gotham that he had not fully disclosed to Bruce the details of. He went into light detail of the time after his father’s death. When he was in the orphanage, where he received his Words on May 27, 1990. How he had resigned himself at Waiting for Conversation for at least eighteen years. Jim gave a brief synopsis of his time overseas in the Army, his special commendations (though he had to admit to Bruce that he would not tell Bruce about any of his top secret or covert operations for both of their safeties. Jim was going to respect his integrity to his countries’ secrets. Bruce agreed that keeping those secrets were Jim’s duty and they moved on). 

Jim also tried to explain his past relationships, of which there were thankfully few. A girl in high school when Jim had been feeling particularly bitter and sorry for himself about his Words and Waiting, a woman in college who had not been with Jim for more than three months before she had her Initial Conversation in a convenient store, and Barbara. Barbara whom Jim had met when he thought he still had at least eight more years before he would meet his Bonded. Jim told Bruce that Barbara and he had been a little less lonely together. He told his Bonded that Barbara had known from the beginning that their relationship was not to be permanent and that Barbara had been Waiting with Jim. That was when Bruce finally confessed the insecurities that he had been feeling concerning the woman. Bruce had apparently felt threatened by the rapport that Jim and Barbara held and had felt that Jim had been letting Barbara in more than he had let Bruce in. Jim was a little shocked at first, but he had to allay Bruce’s fears on that matter. He told Bruce that, while he may have been a little more open with a few cases with Barbara, it was Bruce who knew his actual feelings and true thoughts on many matters. It was Bruce that Jim would call every night, without fail, and it was Bruce that Jim _wanted_ to be with every day. Bruce had again flushed adorably after these declarations and had looked greatly reassured.

Between their finishing the second phase of the Bond, and their daily activities, Jim had been keeping in touch with Gotham through Harvey. Apparently there had been a frenzy breakout at Arkham Asylum and two patients had escaped in the chaos. Harvey had been working on the case and had been able to get an agreement from Commissioner Loeb that if he was able to solve the case, he would get his old partner back. One of the escaped patients was dubbed the 'Electrocutioner’ by the papers in typical overblown media hype. Harvey had been able to take Sal Maroni into custody as bait for the Electrocutioner, which had worked out perfectly. Harvey apprehended the man and Commissioner Loeb had kept his word in reinstating Jim into the police force. Jim had gotten the phone call yesterday morning and had informed Bruce and Alfred. The two had been happy for Jim and they had all agreed to return to Gotham as soon as possible. Which was that morning.

That was why Jim was sitting in front of the French Windows so early. He wanted one last look at this beautiful paradise his Bonded had granted him. Jim wanted to memorize how he felt right at that moment in their lives, and how grateful he was for this little family he was now a part of. They would be returning to Gotham that very day and Jim would be staying at Wayne Manor from then on. It had rankled a bit at first, the thought of living off of his underage Bonded, but after the second phase Bonding they had been through, Jim knew how much Bruce _longed_ for Jim to live together with them. Jim had no choice but to give into his Bonded’s desires. That and, as Alfred was kind enough to point out in that dry manner of his, Jim had nowhere else to go. His lease had expired while they were in Switzerland, and Jim really did not have the funds to look for another apartment in the meantime. Barbara’s place was now off-limits as well due to Bruce’s recent confessions of feeling threatened by Barbara’s relationship with Jim. Besides, Jim did not even know if Barbara was there anyway and Jim would not live off of her either. So, Jim would be living at Wayne Manor from now on. Harvey was going to _love_ that.

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


  
The first day back on the Job, Jim was called in early on a homicide case. 

“You're up early.” He called to Harvey as he entered the building.

“I haven't made it to bed yet. Word is you went straight to Wayne Manor on your return.”

“Yes,” Jim agreed simply, hoping to stave off Harvey's interrogation. “I heard Fish Mooney’s Club got hit. Any word on her?”

In a surprising show of tact, Harvey took the hint for a new path of conversation. “No. Club's all shot up, blood everywhere, no sign of Fish. It's her own damn fault. She played the game, she knew the risks.”

Harvey was trying to look like a hardass, but Jim could tell his partner was having a tough time of it. “Sorry, Harv, I know you have a thing for her.”

Quick to jump on that, Harvey sounded greatly defensive as he said, “I don't got a thing for nobody. My thing is for me. If anyone can make it out of a scrape like that, it's Fish-- the woman's nails. Come on, we got a case.”

This time it was Jim letting things drop. “Yeah. What do we got?”

“Public service homicide. Vic's a douche.” With that statement, Jim felt he had truly returned to Gotham. Good ol’ Harvey Bullock, staying true to himself. Harvey led them further into the factory where the victim was hanging from an industrial machine where a man in a nice suit, strawberry blond hair, and an unfortunate mustache was looking the body over. Harvey pointed to the man and introduced him as Flass, a detective that works Narcotics. “Hence the bling and the, uh, no doubt expensive yet somehow cheap-looking Italian suit.”

“Ah, Bullock, still dressing in the dark and smelling like a taphouse whore.”

“One of Flass's connections tipped him off on the body. Why don't you tell Gordon about the kid?”

“Pinky Littlefield. Dealer from a crew known as the Uptown Assassins. He works this block. Well least he did.”

“Any drugs on him?” Jim questioned.

“Didn't find any. My big wild guess: deal gone bad. Kid like this, bound to happen sooner or later.”

Harvey broke in smugly, “Like I said, public service homicide.”

Rolling his eyes at Jim’s partner, Flass said, “Well, boys, I've got another case I've got to attend to, so if you don't need any more hand-holding.”

Harvey jumped in and said he would escort Flass out.

Left alone with the body hanging by the machinery, Jim gave the victim a closer look. He was checking the kid’s jacket pockets when he noticed the heel of the kid’s shoe was slightly disconnected. Taking a closer look, Jim found a hidden compartment with small blue baggies in it. Jim contemplation of this find was interrupted by Harvey’s return.

“Hey, unis think they may have found a witness. Night janitor. They're bringing him over.” As Harvey was finishing the statement, an older gentleman was led to the two detectives. Harvey introduced them to each other, the man was Leon Winkler. 

“Sir.” Jim greeted politely. It wasn't often a person was willing to come forward when they witnessed a crime in Gotham.

“No need for the formalities. Call me Leon.”

“Leon. We really appreciate you stepping forward.”

“My wife Louisa always says, if you don't step forward, you step back.” The man had a pleasant expression and the crinkles around his eyes showed that he smiled often. 

“She sounds like a smart lady.”

“Yes, she is. So, uh, do I give a statement? A description of the killer? I'm not sure how this works.”

“Would you be willing to come down to the precinct, work with a sketch artist? That really is the best way to catch the killer.” Jim could see the hesitation in the man’s face, so he added, “It'd be a huge help.”

Giving a big sigh, Mr. Winkler agreed.

“Thank you, sir.”

Jim would come to regret convincing the man to come with them to the GCPD. Jim and Harvey had left Mr. Winkler in an interrogation room to wait. When the sketch artist made it to the room, however, the janitor was already dead- stabbed in the back with an icepick, according to Ed. Wounds that were the same as the victim from that morning. It had to have been the same killer, or at least the same weapon used in both crimes. 

Captain Essen was as unhappy with the development as Jim was. “How is anyone gonna trust us to keep them safe? We can't protect people in our own house.”

“Upside is the place is crawling with criminals, so we got beaucoup suspects to choose from.”

“That's an upside?”

At this, Jim had to say what the other two were dancing around. “Security cameras were turned off. Could've been a cop. Probably was.”

“You do not even think something like that,” was Harvey’s adamant reply. “The second that those guys out there hear that you're looking at a cop, they are gonna turn on you.”

“Bullock's right; you start pointing fingers, you could jeopardize your reinstatement. You need concrete evidence to even think of accusing another officer of murder.”

But Jim was not to be deterred. Leon Winkler had trusted Jim, had come to the GCPD on Jim’s request, and look where it had got him. Jim had just got back to Gotham and it seemed that all of the relaxation and mental centering Jim had done was already going down the drain. Jim was starting to feel bitter about it. Gotham was like a dark hole where simple good things happening were like miracles and the bad stuff was commonplace and overlooked. “I'll start with the guard duty logbook.”

Captain Essen gave Jim a pleading look. “Jim…”

“Winkler was my witness. No way I'm letting this ride. I asked him to come in here; I'm gonna find his killer. No matter who it is.”

“Proceed with caution.” Captain Essen gave in with grace. Jim agreed with her demands as she added, “No big moves without my say-so.”

However, it was not going to be as easy as Jim had hoped. When he went to find the logbook, the page he needed looked like it had been ripped out. He showed Harvey this evidence and asked his partner if he knew who had been on guard duty outside the interrogation room when Winkler was killed.

“No idea, man.”

Jim was beyond frustrated at this whole mess. He let himself have a brief selfish thought of his Bonded waiting for him back at Wayne Manor before he got back to business. “Nobody's talking. They're protecting their own.”

“Or they just don't like you,” was Harvey’s mocking reply.

“Face it, Harvey. Leon Winkler's killer is a cop.”

“Not proven.” Proving that Harvey was going to be stubborn on the matter.

“Come on, you know these guys. You've known them since way back. Give me some leverage. Give me an angle. You really want to work with a murderer?” Jim knew he was wheedling, but he had no choice. Harvey may have been the one who got Jim his job back- and Jim would forever be grateful for that- but his gratefulness would not prevent Jim from pulling out all the shots for this case.

Giving in, Harvey was able to get a lead that pointed to fellow police officer named Grover. When Jim and Harvey confronted Grover, they were able to get a lead on another detective named Delaware. Jim tracked that man down to the parking garage under the precinct. 

Jim noticed the man in question just as he was making his way out. Jim called out to him and the man spooked and ran to his car. Delaware got into his car and started backing up. “Hey! Hey!” The man’s tires screeched as he hit his brakes to avoid Jim now standing in the way of his exit. 

Delaware got out of his car shouting. “You're gonna regret that.”

“You were guarding interrogation this morning, weren't you?”

“Screw off.” 

The man’s fist came speeding towards Jim’s face and he dodged it, giving Delaware a powerful left hook of his own. The man didn’t dodge Jim’s punch so Jim was able to subdue him. Cuffing the man and leaving his defeated form on the hood of his car, Jim pulled the keys out of the ignition. When Jim checked the trunk he found little blue baggies exactly like the ones he found in the heel of the victim that morning. 

Jim’s sense of victory was a little diminished by the reprimands he got from both Harvey and Essen after he had forced Delaware into a cell. They both wanted Jim to toe the party line and to be more careful in his accusations. Captain Essen was especially disapproving when she called Jim in to her office where Detective Flass from Narcotics was waiting with her. The Captain informed him they were letting Delaware go. Supposedly he had been a part of an ongoing investigation and Jim was being held responsible for any repercussions of his actions. 

Jim could not believe this crap. He didn’t hold a grain of salt to anything Flass was saying. “So we're ignoring Delaware's involvement in Winkler's death? Is that what we're doing, Cap?” Jim demanded.

“No. But this isn't the way, Jim. I'm turning over the case to Internal Affairs.”

Scoffing in incredulity, Jim asked, “IA? Two old drunks in the basement.”

Captain Essen held firm in the face of Jim’s derision. “You and Bullock are no longer investigating the Winkler murder.”

“What about the Littlefield murder?” Jim couldn’t help but sneer at Flass as he asked, “Or, wait, is that also a part of an ongoing narco investigation?”

“All you, buddy. Let me know if you need any help.” Flass was the picture of condescension as he made his way out of the Captain’s office. “I'm sorry about the confusion.”

Jim scowled at the Captain before storming out. He had to get some fresh air, clear his head before he did anything to further harm his position at the GCPD. Jim had covered a block when Harvey caught up with him.

Grabbing Jim’s arm to halt his parade, Harvey beseeched, “Let’s get some grub and we can discuss this like adults, okay?”

Letting out a long breath, Jim nodded and let Harvey lead him to the closest diner. They found a booth and both gave their order to a waitress before either of them spoke to the other. It was Harvey who broke the silence. “Listen, Jim, there's something I got to tell you. A few years ago, Flass and his people started busting drug dealers, taking over their stash houses, running them themselves.”

“Now? You tell me this _now_?” Where had this information been when they had been in the Captain’s office?

“Look, I respond to crises as they arise.” Harvey didn’t even sound regretful, just matter-of-fact. “I'm not a forward planner like you. I didn't tell you then because I didn't want to get you all riled you up, but I'm telling you now because I want you to stop. Flass is protected.”

Wasn’t’ everybody at the GCPD? Jim would need Harvey to be more clear. “By who?”

“Serious people. Really high up. Big money. For all I know, the Commissioner gets a piece, too. You mess with Flass; you can forget a second chance with only unpaid leave. These guys do not play.”

Now that was information Jim could work with. The Commissioner was the one who let Jim come back to the force, but like with Harvery, Jim would not let gratefulness give him blinders. “These stash houses… think you can get me a location on them?”

“Did you not hear a word I just said?” Harvey finally had a crack in the cajoling façade he had taken up for this conversation. 

“The stash houses could give us evidence linking Flass to Littlefield's murder. We nail him for Littlefield, we can nail him for Winkler.” Jim could see the frustration in Harvey’s eyes. Jim knew he was rocking the boat more that Harvey had ever been comfortable with. However, Jim thought they both knew each other well enough by now to know how the both were. “I can't let it be, Harvey. You should know that by now.”

Harvey exasperatedly stood up, pulling his phone out. Jim, not wanting Harvey to change his mind, went to pay the bill as Harvey talked. 

Again, Harvey’s contacts came through for them and they found Delaware in a stash house surrounded by drugs. Their victory was again taken from them by Delaware and a warrant for search and seizure he had for the whole warehouse. It had been signed by both the Commissioner and Judge Bam-Bam. They had no leg to stand on with that angle. To top it all off, he had gotten roughed up by Delaware’s men and Jim could feel Bruce’s curious worry through the Bond. After the second phase, they had been able to send more accurate feeling and even brief images of what was in front of them in moments of intense concentration. Jim did not know how moments of stress would affect that part of the NAB, and he did not want to find out when he was surrounded by drugs. He sent back feelings of _exasperation of Gotham/reassurance of his well-being/just another day at the job_. Bruce seemed to settle down and let the Bond go back to the background. 

When the two detectives got back to the precinct, Jim asked, “So what's our next step?”

“Next step? We got nothing to tie Flass to the drugs or the murders.” Was Harvey’s critical reply. 

Jim saw the Captain making her way over to them and her expression made Jim’s stomach drop in trepidation. “Murder. Just one. Internal Affairs just ruled Winkler's death as a suicide.” Her calm voice broke a little as she added. “They're releasing the body to his wife.”

She made a gesture with her chin and Jim turned to see a grieving elderly lady being kindly escorted through the pen. The woman was crying as she repeated “Leon was so very happy. This just can't be right.”

Turning back to the Captain in disgust, Jim demanded, “A suicide? He stabbed himself in the back with an ice pick? That's absurd!”

Seeming to agree with Jim, the Captain explained, “A ruling this quick means the Commissioner was involved.”

“Screw the commissioner,” was Jim’s quick response. He was obviously just another corrupt official taking advantage of the power he held. This whole situation wasn’t right!

“Going forward with this puts all of our jobs at risk.” Captain Essen took on a sincere expression, “Look, I want to help you, Jim. There are people here in GCPD who want to help you.”

“So why don't they?”

“They have. _I have_. And we learned the hard way. With men like Flass, you need more than words. You need results. And that's not gonna happen this time around. So do us all a favor and move on to the next vic. Please.” With that the Captain made her way back to her office.

Looking at Winkler’s widow in tears over the loss of her husband, Jim knew he could not let the matter drop. He grabbed his jacket, keys and phone, and headed out the door. He told Harvey he would be back soon.

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


  
Later that afternoon, Jim was having second and third thoughts about the choice he had just made. Going to Cobblepot for a favor had seemed like a good idea with Mrs. Winkler’s grief still fresh on his mind, but Jim had some severe reservations about Cobblepot’s reaction to his request. Jim hoped that the man did not really think they were friends. Sure, Jim saw him as a lesser evil, and a very cordial person to interact with, but Jim knew that Cobblepot was just like the rest of them. He would do anything for power. Jim didn’t see what other option he had in this case though, he _had_ to find Winkler’s killer and the ordinary means would not work in this matter. He just hoped this favor would be worth it.

When Jim got back to the precinct, he sat in his parked car for a minute before he gave in and called the one person he knew would not bullshit with him and would hold his actions to a higher standard.

“Ah, Master James.” Alfred’s gruff voice came over the speaker. “You called just in time. It seems Master Bruce has had a falling out with Miss Kyle. I will put him on the phone now.” 

Almost before Jim could follow this change in his plans, his Bonded’s voice came over the speaker, clear but with the slightest hint of a nasal tone. Jim instantly disregarded his initial reason for calling to focus on his Bonded’s words. “Jim. When will you be coming home?” 

Jim knew he was not as sensitive to the Bond as Bruce seemed to be, but he didn’t see how he could have missed the pain that Bruce was feeling at the moment! At the _White Ace_ , Bruce had theorized that it was most likely because Jim had a career in the physical world to keep his mind engaged and occupied while Bruce spent most of his free time immersed in his own mind. Jim personally thought it came down to his being a selfish bastard who could only focus on a limited number of things at a time while Bruce’s brain was a wonder that could fit whole worlds in it. Not matter their divided theories, though, it came down to Jim needing to focus specifically on Bruce to see how his Bonded was doing while Jim's feelings flowed freely to Bruce at all times of the day.

“I hope soon, Doll, soon,” Jim answered his Bonded’s entreaty. “I have to finish a few things today, but I don’t know if the case I am on can be wrapped up tonight. I have some feelers out there but there's no telling when they will pay off. But, hey, Alfred said that you had a fight with Selina? Did she not like your gift…?”

“No, she seemed to like it initially,” Bruce cut in. “She just proved herself to be a duplicitous person.” Jim wondered what Selina could have said for Bruce to call her _that_ , but before he could question it, Bruce continued. “I think this matter would be best to speak about in person. I will have Alfred prepare dinner and we can discuss it then. We serve it at eight as usual, please be punctual.”

With that his Bonded hung up the phone. Bruce must be really upset to make such a demand, especially considering how understanding Bruce had been about Jim’s odd hours before their trip to Switzerland. Jim looked at the time on his phone. Just coming on five o’clock. What was Jim going to say to get off in three hours? The Captain would probably accept the excuse that Jim’s Bonded needed him. She would be aware of the seriousness of _Jim_ asking to be let off for the day. She may actually welcome Jim being away from the precinct and the Narcotics/Winkler case. It would be Harvey who would give him ribbing about Jim uncharacteristically letting a matter drop, if even for a night. Which would be a nightmare. 

In the end, though, Jim did not need to speak to Captain Essen at all because Cobblepot had worked his magic quickly. Cobblepot's employee had dropped off the evidence Jim had been sorely needing, giving him Flass on a silver platter despite his protection and friends on the force. The Captain had showed her support in Flass’ arrest when Jim had displayed the evidence for the whole of GCPD to see. The rest of his fellow officers looked a little wary of him after the deed was done, but they had let Flass be arrested with no arguments. Even Montoya stepped in to read Flass his rights.

Jim thanked his Captain and she just gave him a supportive tap to his shoulder before walking away.

After that, it was pretty quick to wrap it all up. Jim filled out the report of the evidence against Flass and left for the day at seven sharp. 

Jim was making his way to his car when Delaware popped up before him. “Yo. That big guy visit you? Give you the package I sent?”

Looking around, Jim saw there was nobody to witness their conversation. Still, he tried to walk past Delaware as he acknowledged the man’s words. “Yeah. Thanks. That was, uh…”

Jim’s hopes for a short conversation were dashed as Delaware followed at his shoulder as he walked. “Yo, this so this means we're even? I ratted out Flass like you wanted. So now you back off, right? Nothing more is gonna happen to my wife? She's safe? My family's safe?”

What was this man talking about? Jim hoped his dawning apprehensions would prove to be false… “I don't understand what you're talking about.”

“Okay, okay, no worries. Look, never mind I pressed. I won't say nothing to no one. I'll-I'll pretend this conversation never happened. Okay? Just keep my wife and kids out of it. I'm-I'm begging you.” Delaware dropped to his knees and his eyes filled with tears as he imploringly looked up at Jim. “Please. Please! Please!”

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


  
Jim still had the echoes of the word _please_ ringing in his ears as he made his way up the drive at Wayne Manor. He had been able to get Delaware to calm down with assurances that the issue had been dealt with and his family would not be bothered any further. Jim hadn’t known what else to say. His worst fears had been realized and in the process of finding the killer of Winkler, he had possibly led a family to be traumatized for life. Jim was sick to his stomach but also furious with Cobblepot on going back on his word to Jim that nobody would get hurt. Sure, Jim had got his guy and nobody had been killed… Still, Delaware had to have been severely spooked to display that about face personality change in just this past day. Jim did not even want to think about the details of what Delaware’s family had been through. But, he would. He didn’t even know how to confront Cobblepot on his actions without burning the one bridge Jim had into the Gotham Underground. 

Pulling his thoughts back to the present, Jim parked in the Wayne Manor garage and made his way inside through the attached door. Jim looked at his watch and saw he had exactly one minute before eight, so he hightailed it to the Dining Room and plopped himself in the seat next to where Bruce was sitting at the head of the table. “Sorry I’m cutting it so close, but I was able to crack my case after all. I just got done with all the paperwork an hour ago.”

Alfred was giving Jim a distinctly disapproving look, but it was Bruce’s melancholy nod that really got to Jim. “It would have been understandable if you had to focus on work. It was unjust of me to force your attendance tonight. I let my feelings take control of my common sense.”

Jim both loved and hated when Bruce got these kinds of extremely formal speech patterns. On the one hand, it was adorable to see his young Bonded speak with a better vocabulary than he himself did, but on the other hand, Bruce only spoke that way when he was uncomfortable or upset. Both of those options were not acceptable for Jim. So, Jim reached out and grabbed Bruce’s chin to ensure eye-contact. “Doll, no… If you ever need me, I want to be here. I may be a little... over-passionate in my detective-work, but all you have to do is call me on it and I’ll try to fix it. I don’t want you to think that my job would _ever_ come before you, okay?”

Bruce sniffed and nodded. Alfred took that cue to start serving dinner and they all dug into the delicious meal that the butler had prepared. Jim had even been able to convince Alfred to eat with them, sitting across from Jim at Bruce’s left. That was another clue that the reason for Bruce’s distress was a serious matter. Alfred had eaten dinner with them in Switzerland, but Bruce’s comments had made Jim aware of how out-of-character that was for the butler while at Wayne Manner.

As they were finishing up the first course, Bruce placed his utensils down and finally spoke. “I had a visit from Sel… Miss Kyle today.”

Also placing their utensils down, Jim gave Bruce his whole attention while Alfred seemed to be looking to Jim for his reaction. Bruce continued when he saw Jim was focused on him. “She informed me that she had never seen the face of our parent’s murderer. She said she had been lying this whole time to avoid juvenile detention. She said I needed to stop _hassling_ her.” 

Each statement came a little quicker, a little more choked. Jim himself was getting a little choked up from both the NAB and the news Bruce was giving. Selina had _lied_? Usually Jim was good at spotting when someone was trying to pull the wool over his eyes, but Jim had not seen this coming at all. Selina had been their best bet at finding their parent’s killer. They had all recently spoken about what they would all do when the killer was caught and how they would celebrate closing the case. 

“Bruce…” Jim didn’t know what he could say to make this situation better. “We’ll still find our parent’s killer. I’ll go back to the case files, start fresh and see if there are any other angles to find…”

It was Alfred’s no-nonsense attitude that pulled the two out of the negative feed-back they had started to spiral down in their Bond. “Now Masters, you can wallow in your grief all night, or you can get over yourselves right now and save us all a bit o’ suffering. Even with your parents gone, you still have each other and I daresay the two of you can do near anything you put your collective noggin to. I saw proof enough in Switzerland that the two of you on an agreed upon path cannot be deterred. Even with a poor ol’ butler tired out of his wits and ready to call it a day after _three separate_ advanced ski routes.” Wiping his mouth delicately on his napkin, Alfred acted as though he had no inkling the positive effect his words had on the two Bonded. The butler stood with a small acknowledgment of the two smiles on his favorite boys’ faces and asked, “Now, who wants dessert?”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Chapter Description: Fear and Grief. Will and Love._   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'm back. This chapter marks the beginning of a greater departure from canon, and brings up new aspects of the Bond. As always, I disclaim ownership of the actual characters or Gotham. This is an unbeta'd work, so the mistakes _are_ mine. Tell me what you think. On that note, thank you to all who left wonderful comments both here and on my [ tumblr ](http://blockovich.tumblr.com/). I cannot express how encouraging it is to read them. Enjoy.

**Chapter 8**  
  
The morning after the emotionally charged dinner, both Bruce and Jim were a little out of sorts. Bruce’s revelation that Selina had been a dead end had hit Jim as hard as it had Bruce. They had both let their hopes rise with the belief that, with Selina’s testimony, it would only be a matter of time before they caught their parent’s murderer. Bruce could tell that, without Alfred, he and his Bonded would have swirled down into a miasma of despair and dejection, their negative emotions feeding off of one another. 

Actually, last night brought to attention something that Bruce had been trying to avoid thinking about. He didn’t even want to think about it now, but thoughts and ideas kept breaking through his iron control. It was only a little, and he was getting a handle on them, but still a few would break through. Last night brought into stark relief that… NO! It can’t be! _Jim_ was _older_ than Bruce! It was astronomically more likely that the older in the Bond was the one… especially when there was such an age disparity… Stop it! It was too much. Bruce couldn’t handle it right now if it were true! And, the evidence points to it being true… After all, even Jim seemed to notice; he was the one who brought up how Bruce seemed more _sensitive_ to the Bond. At the time, Bruce had hypothesized that their different perceptions of the Bond were because Jim had a job he had to be physically and mentally focused on to the near exclusion of anything else while Bruce’s past times have been in majority a mental occupation. However, last night brought up a new theory that was disturbingly more likely. 

_Why?!_ It was too much responsibility! But, no. Bruce _had_ to shelve these thoughts for the time being. They were both still in a state of semi-shock and they needed time to get their composure back. They would eventually have to speak on the topic, and Jim may already know, but Bruce couldn’t handle that right now. The moment they spoke about it, it would be _really_ true and they would have to face the consequences. Bruce wasn’t ready.

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


  
The three of them were enjoying a quiet breakfast in the kitchen. Alfred must have sensed that an informal meal would calm their nerves from the ordeal last night. The butler also probably didn’t want to have to figuratively knock them upside their heads to bring them out of any potential spiral again. Such a pragmatist their butler is. 

“So, I was thinking…” Jim’s voice broke into the sleepy calm permeating the kitchen. Ignoring Alfred’s derisive snort and the “this’ll be good,” spoken under his breath, Jim lifted his chin, imperiously ignoring the butler, and turned to Bruce. “I was _thinking_ it was time to pick up all of my stuff from Barbara’s and to give her back her key.”

“Oh.” Bruce was pleasantly surprised, and a quick glance at Alfred’s face showed him that he wasn’t alone in the feeling. Bruce knew that Jim was worried about his friend, mostly because it seems that Miss Kean has not been answering any of his phone calls. His Bonded could not hide his worry from him, but Jim must have made a decision to let Miss Kean do what she would. “That may be for the best. When do you plan to do this?”

"This weekend.” And if Jim’s smile was a little regretful, Bruce knew that it was due to Jim’s big heart making it hard for him to leave hurting people alone. Jim’s blue eyes found Bruce’s and held on. “But… I was hoping you two would come with me. I don’t have much left there, but I could use a couple of extra hands.”

Now, Bruce was aware of what Jim was offering with that request. His Bonded knew about his insecurities and was giving Bruce a chance to be a part of Jim letting the past go. It was really very thoughtful. Bruce could easily hire people to help Jim get his personal possessions from Miss Kean’s apartment, but Jim was purposefully including his new family in the process of letting go of his old connections. His Bonded truly was the best. 

“We’ll just make an afternoon of it then, won’t we,” Alfred’s gruff voice broke into their gazes.

“Yes,” Bruce agreed firmly. “This weekend Alfred and I will help you get the remainder of your possessions.”

With that, they all went back to finishing breakfast. Jim left to work, and Bruce went to the study to begin his personalized curriculum for the week.

When the weekend rolled around, Alfred packed them into the Mayback 62 Sedan for the extra space to store up Jim’s possessions. When they pulled up at Miss Kean’s building, Jim let out an almost inaudible sigh, gave Bruce’s hand a quick squeeze before getting out of the door that Alfred had opened for him. Bruce waited for Alfred to open his door and got out himself. They all three then made their way up to Miss Kean’s penthouse. 

Bruce could see the tension in Jim’s shoulders ease considerably as he used the key to open the door for the last time. Inside, the apartment certainly looked like it had been lived in recently. Wrappers scattered around and rumpled bedspread on couch.

“Barbara?” Jim called out, apparently of the same mind as Bruce. There was no answer and Jim nodded to Alfred and Bruce to enter as well. His Bonded walked to a table stand and deposited the keys he had used to open Miss Kean’s door into a bowl. 

As Jim started looking around the apartment, his body language displaying suspicion, Bruce started to look around as well, curious. The first corner he turned, Bruce was supremely surprised to see a familiar person crouching behind a set of drawers. They both looked at one another in silent wonder before Bruce said simply, “Hello.”

Jim made both of them jump out of their stupor as he appeared suddenly around the other corner and grabbed Selina Kyle’s arm. 

“Let go of me,” was her indignant reply. Selina yanked her arm out of her Bonded’s grip and took some paces away from between them.

“How long you been here?”

“Just last night.” At Jim’s interrogative look, the girl added, “And a couple times before. I knew your girlfriend was gone, and I heard you were on vacation with Bruce, so I figured better here than sleeping on the street.”

Jim jumped onto that. “Have you seen Barbara?”

“No,” Selina answered automatically. She then got a smug look in her almond eyes as she spotted Alfred, who chose then to step up behind Jim and to enter into the conversation. “Oh, so things are over between you three, huh? Sure you guys should be here then? Maybe you're the ones breaking in.”

“Came by to drop off keys.” Jim looked to be coming to a decision as he added, “Go get your stuff.”

Selina took a few more steps back, away from the three. “Why? Where are you taking me?”

“Well, you're not staying here, and you're not gonna stay on the street. I'll find you someplace safe.”

“Hmm. Safe. Safe like Wayne Manor?” Here, she looked at Bruce with a scoff. “That was your last great idea.”

“So someplace else,” came Jim’s easy reply. “Just because you don’t know who killed our… The Waynes, doesn’t mean I want you on your own.”

“Hmm. So, Bruce told you?”

“Yes. It was very… disappointing to hear. Still, we don’t want you to be alone on the streets.”

Selina seemed to be struck by this comment. She looked to Bruce, whom she had been arguably the most affected by her deceitfulness. Her voice was very confrontational as she asked, “That true, huh? Even though I got nothin’ for you?”

Bruce may have been feeling extremely ambivalent towards the girl at the moment, but he also was not about to let the topic drop just due to that. Plus, he was coming to the conclusion that friendship could be one-sided. Just because she had not been a good friend to him, didn’t mean he had to return the sentiment in kind. “Selina, I wanted you to stay with us from the beginning.” Bruce ignored both Alfred’s scoff and the widening of Selina’s eyes, taking courage from the small smile stealing over Jim’s face. “I feel I must apologize for putting so much pressure on you to be involved in my parent’s case. It wasn’t fair to you that I… I put such a heavy obligation onto your shoulders. You must have been so scared when we were attacked at my house…” 

“I ain’t scared that easily!” Selina quickly cut in. Her face moved from indignation to unease quickly though. “I just… I couldn’t do what you wanted me to do. And I could see you wanted it _so_ much. It didn’t seem right anymore to con you. It was getting very depressing, ya know? So not worth it.” During this speech, Selina had been slowly backing up, and in their distraction, Bruce, Jim and Alfred had not seen what she had intended to do. With a quick wave to Alfred and Jim she said, “Sucks about your girlfriend. She's got some really nice stuff,” and with that she was out the window and jumping out of sight.

Jim was the fastest to react. He quickly ran to the balcony, yelling, “Hey, wait! Stop!”

Bruce could see Jim’s frustration as he smacked the ledge. Selina had gotten away again. Bruce supposed that they would all just have to rely on the fact that the girl had been on the streets most of her life and should be able to take care of herself. 

“Jim,” Bruce calmly got his Bonded’s attention. As Jim turned back to them, Bruce met his eyes and smiled commiserating. With a shake of his head, all he could say was, “We still have some packing to do.”

With a rueful smile, Jim nodded and they all went around the apartment looking for any items of Jim’s. Alfred and Bruce had to double-check with Jim as to which were his possessions and which were not, but it was fairly easy to distinguish what items were not Miss Kean’s. All of Jim’s items were not as… modern, expensive, new… or cold as Miss Kean seemed to have preferred. It did not take a genius to infer that the holey knitted blanket draped over an armchair was Jim’s, or that the mug with “I didn’t choose the mug life, the mug life chose me” printed on it. 

All in all, Jim’s remaining possessions barely filled two of the boxes that they had brought up. Not surprising as Jim had moved most of his larger items and his wardrobe to Wayne Manor right after they had gotten back from Switzerland. Still, Bruce would have to, _very slyly_ , buy Jim some more personal possessions. It was a little depressing to see how little his Bonded had subsisted on. Jim would just have to concede to the fact that he was Bonded to a Billionaire. _That would be_ so _easy,_ Bruce knew. He just had to go about it in a way that Jim would agree before he had realized what he had accepted. Bruce would come up with strategies to do just that as soon as possible. He would recruit Alfred to help. The butler was a wily man, one who Bruce himself had been on the losing side of many a time. So, Jim should not be a problem.

That night, after they had finished bringing Jim’s things to his room and eaten dinner, all three were lounging before the fire. Something about Jim having all of his possessions in Wayne Manor settled some possessive feeling in Bruce’s chest. However, the contented feeling was broken by the sudden hesitation Bruce felt over the Bond. He looked quizzically over to his Bonded and found a chagrined look on Jim’s face.

“Look, we haven’t exactly discussed our parent’s case since Selina turned out to be a dead end, but it doesn't mean we're back to square one. Someone sent assassins after her. Only a guilty person would do that.”

Alfred stood straight sharply from where he had been lazily mixing another round of tea for the three of them. “Yes, and led her bloody assassins to the manor. Thank you very much.”

“We’re not giving up,” Bruce said stoutly to the butler, who nodded with reluctance. “However… it has been months of investigations, and in all that time, we've managed to find one witness, who turned out to be a liar.”

“An investigation like this takes time,” Jim tried to reassure, his determination only slightly weakened from the latest set-back. 

“I understand. But you have a job to get back to. It is my understanding that your position at the GCPD is tenuous at best. I know you won’t give up the investigation entirely, but I don't want you to put your job in jeopardy any more than you have to. I'll pursue the matter on my own.”

Looking a little guilty and not a bit hurt, Jim tried to cut in with a quiet, “Bruce,” but Alfred interrupted. “Yeah, no, I agree, actually, mate. Once Master Bruce makes up his mind, there's no arguing with him.”

“You can't pursue this case on your own. It's too dangerous.”

Bruce took Jim’s hand reassuringly and, God forgive him, attempted for the first time to use what he had been afraid to even _think_ about earlier that week. Jim would pursue their parent’s killer to the detriment of his very career, and even to the detriment of his _safety_. Bruce did not see any logic in endangering his family for the sake of their already deceased parents. If he had to do something a little distasteful in order to protect this precious person, then so be it. Looking into his Bonded’s earnest blue eyes, Bruce poured his determination and will into their Bond as he said. “I want you to focus on yourself for now. Do your job to the best of your abilities, but please do not distract yourself with our parent’s case. If a clue falls into your lap, that would be ideal and welcome, but leave the rest to me. Alright?” 

The resolve on Jim’s face slowly dissolved into resignation. Letting out a long breath, Jim gave Bruce a rueful smile before he kissed Bruce’s forehead and whispered, “Okay. I will focus on my job for now.” Jim stood slowly, then and started walking away. “I’m going to head to bed. It’s been a long night. Good night, Alfred.”

“Good night, Master James.” Alfred’s almost gentle tone did not match the accusatory look he had aimed at Bruce. Going by that look, Alfred at least had the same suspicions as Bruce. He must have seen the briefest expression of uncertainty that had passed through Jim’s face before he had agreed with Bruce. Alfred knew… 

Bruce himself could not keep the guilt from his face. Nor did he think the nausea would go away any time soon. But, he _had_ to do it. He could tell the stress that Jim had just been able to overcome in Switzerland had been on the verge of coming back in full force in light of Selina’s confession. Bruce had to protect his Bonded from that draining feeling of inadequacy that had been near consuming Jim before their vacation. It had been a feeling that his Bonded had buried so deep that he didn’t even think that Jim even knew what he had been thinking about himself. But, Bruce had seen it. 

During the completion of the second phase of their Bond, Bruce had been immersed in his Bonded’s mind enough to see what Jim was hiding from even himself. Bruce did not want that. He just wanted what was best for Jim, and that was the job he loved so much. Jim thrived in his detective work, and their parent’s case had been a controversy of duty that had been distracting Jim for too long. Bruce was fully confident he could adequately continue the investigation on his own. 

“I do hope you will not be doing that again, Master Bruce.” Alfred’s severe tone cut through Bruce’s inner turmoil. 

With eyes filling with moisture, Bruce attempted to keep his voice even as he replied, “I didn’t want to, Alfred.”

Stern expression melting incrementally, Alfred said, “And you will be discussing a very important matter with Master James very soon, I hope.” 

Nodding, Bruce agreed desolately as he himself made his way to his bedroom. He was tired as well and a night of rest would hopefully give him the clarity he would need for the upcoming conversation with his Bonded. 

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


  
Over the next few days, Bruce was unable to suppress the guilt swamping his conscience. Jim was actually making it worse by being an even better man than usual. He was attentive when Bruce needed it. He was in good humor, as evidenced by his continual ribbing on Alfred. Jim even seemed to know when Bruce was castigating himself because Jim would just smile artlessly at Bruce and ruffle his hair. It almost felt like forgiveness, really. But Bruce didn’t _want_ forgiveness… at least, not yet. He hasn’t gotten the courage up to have the needed discussion with his Bonded. That, and for all that Jim was there for Bruce in spirit, Jim also had another high-profile case he was working on. Something about a phobia killer, whatever _that_ could mean. So, Jim didn’t have time for the silly conversation. That was it. Bruce was waiting on Jim’s account. Really.

Jim himself had a brief shot of guilt during said case. Bruce found out in a call Jim had made during his break. 

“Harvey had his Initial Conversation today. It was with a woman who is helping with this case. Her name is Scottie Mullens.” Jim had said all of this in one breath. Bruce could hear Jim exhale loudly over the line. Then, Jim’s voice took on a more hesitant tone. “Harvey told me about it right away. He couldn’t hide it, really. He and Scottie were so obviously lost in each other… But he just came out and said ‘meet my Bonded, Jim,’ easy as that.”

Bruce could see where this was going a mile away. Jim was conflicted because Harvey told him right away while Jim is still keeping his own Bond a secret. Bruce didn’t’ know the exact situation of Detective Bullock’s Bond with Miss Mullens, but he was sure their situation was markedly different than Bruce’s and Jim’s. Plus, Alfred would skin Jim if he gave up the ghost before talking about it with him. 

“Jim. I am sincerely glad for the detective. I have not encountered a man more in need of… a gentle touch. Maybe Miss Mullens will be that for him. I am also aware of how much you appreciate Detective Bullock as a friend. We can’t tell him our secret yet. I am still a weak point for you… No.” Here Bruce had to interrupt Jim’s exclamations of denial. “No, Jim, it is merely the truth. I could definitely be used against you both by criminals you investigate and by those who you work with. Besides, Alfred.”

That simple last statement seemed to be what actually led Jim to agreeing to keep their Bond secret still. “But, I want to tell Harvey soon. We can discuss it, but I really would like the sexy butler jokes to stop. They’re fraying to the nerves.”

Letting out a huff of laughter, Bruce agreed. The light note was what led to Bruce finding the nerve to say, “Dad and I had a tradition…” Jim hummed encouragingly at Bruce’s faltering start. Bruce rallied himself again. “Every year, we would go on a hike through the southern forest surrounding the Manor and we would stay out overnight. There is a ridge we would watch the sunset from… If you can make time… Since dad can’t make it this year… I thought _we_ , ahem… we could go together this year.” Bruce cursed internally as his voice started losing volume during this speech until it was only a whisper at the end. His face was flushed and his eyes damp, and it took great effort to keep his emotions as reigned in as they were.

“Of course, Doll. Send me the information and I will request the time off with Captain Essen.” 

Jim’s reassuring tone was making Bruce choke up even more, so he said he would send the information right then and gave Jim his goodbyes so he could keep his dignity intact. 

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


  
“Do you have everything you two need, Master James?”

“ _Yes _, Alfred,” Bruce answered exasperatedly to the hovering man. He was such a worry wart!__

“You can still come with, if you want to,” Jim interjected before they could devolve into another passive aggressive argument. 

Alfred straightened out his suit and threw his shoulders back, falling into his standard formal stance. Bruce could see Alfred’s eyes dart to him before returning to Jim. “No. It wouldn't be right.”

Smiling sympathetically, Jim said, “No. Of course.”

Trying to reign in his temper, Bruce attempted to soothe Alfred. “We'll be fine, Alfred. You don't have to worry.”

“Who said I was worried?”

“We'll be back tomorrow morning,” Bruce assured, ignoring Alfred’s denials. With that, Bruce hitched up his hiking pack and made his way towards the door, only stopping just before the exit. He turned his head to see his Bonded right behind him, pack also on his shoulders. Bruce fixed his gaze onto the stiff form of his butler and said, “I've been on this hike before, you know.”

“Not without your father.” Looking to regret the sharp tone he had used, Alfred instantly softened and gestured at Bruce. “Come here.” Bruce held still as Alfred fussed with his pack straps. “He would have approved, you know. Carrying on the tradition like this with your Bonded.”

“Thank you, Alfred.”

With a final tug, Alfred had nothing else to do but smile and say his farewells. “Well, off you go then.”

They hike together quietly for a time, Bruce only speaking to give directions to Jim. Bruce could tell that Jim was preoccupied with the case he had left in Detective Bullocks hands. Bruce would feel guilty about that, but he can _feel_ that Jim is not too put out about getting to spend the day with Bruce. Jim was actually feeling a bit of excitement; which Bruce could not blame him for. After all, Jim had never gotten to go on this hike with their dad. Bruce had some big shoes to fill as a guide, but he is determined to give Jim a little piece of insight on their father.

They navigated their way over fallen leaves and larger obstacles such as the large tree Bruce remembers from the previous year. Thomas Wayne had been interested in the changes found in their annual hike, and had once spent twenty boring minutes contemplating out loud what might have caused the large tree to fall. Bruce remembers thinking that he would prefer to get on with their hike. It was just a fallen tree; didn’t trees do that from time to time? What was so special? Now, though, Bruce wishes he had listened a little more closely to his dad’s ramblings. 

It was a little way beyond the fallen tree that Bruce found the first cairn. 

“Here is our first stop.” Bruce lets his pack drop in front of the cairns. “We each find a rock around here, and exchange it for one from the pile.”

Jim gamely followed Bruce’s example in searching for new rocks to add to the cairn. As they do, Bruce explains to Jim the meaning of them. “It’s a landmark. Dad said that it is a way for the Wayne family to always find their way home after a journey. Though, it really isn’t just a Wayne-specific tradition. Cairns are used throughout the world as markers for trails, for ceremonial purposes, astronomy, and they’re even used to mark a person’s place of burial.” 

“That’s my Bruce.” Jim’s fond voice broke into Bruce’s little lecture. Looking to his Bonded, Bruce cheeks heated with the warmth he could see in Jim’s blue eyes. “It shouldn’t surprise me anymore how smart you are, but it is nice to be reminded how lucky _I_ am every now and again.”

Bruce playfully shoved his Bonded before continuing their hike. Jim would just have to follow. This second stage of their journey seemed more light-hearted. The almost awkward shyness that had been hovering over the Bond had dissipated entirely. Bruce didn’t think either of them had _really _appreciated that they had never been alone together for such a long time with no Alfred hovering in the peripheral. It was actually quite nice.__

They made it to the next stopping point, this time there were two cairns. One was marked with a rock that had TW carved into it, and a smaller one with BW. Before they had even set out, Bruce had Jim carve JG into a new rock so he could start his own pile. As Bruce was placing a rock onto the BW cairn and one onto the TW one, though, he was suddenly overcome. 

The past year had been a dizzying set of conflicts and joys. His parents had died. He had found his Bonded years before he was meant to. Jim’s job being a great source of stress for Bruce, who had to sense Jim’s state of being over their Bond. Jim bringing the first real friend Bruce has had into his life. Jim and Bruce completing the second stage of their Bond. Selina betraying their friendship. Jim making the decision to put Bruce first, before even his job. Bruce using the Bond recklessly… 

It was too much, all of a sudden. How was anyone supposed to process such a contradiction of events? Bruce picked up the TW rock and caressed it gently before suddenly throwing it as far as he could away from him. 

“Hey!” Jim’s exclaimed from behind him. 

However, Jim did not stop Bruce as he started to pick up more rocks, throwing them into the forest around them. It was only when Bruce’s anger started to give way to grief that Jim grabbed Bruce’s shoulders and turned him into his chest. Bruce rested his flushed face against Jim’s neck, hiding briefly before he wrenched himself away and turned to continue their journey. Jim’s supportive presence a boon to his frayed emotions, but only just. Bruce wasn’t ready to be comforted yet. That would mean explaining himself. 

Bruce’s distraction cost him seconds later when the level terrain suddenly gave way to a steep incline. Bruce found gravity working against him as he lost his footing and started sliding down the hill, hitting rocks and rolling over fallen trunks on the way down. 

“Bruce!” Jim’s shout followed Bruce’s descent. 

As he came to an abrupt stop at the bottom of the hill, Bruce just lay there, dazed. He could hear Jim’s frantic calling, and feel his alarm through the Bond, but Bruce could barely pull his disordered thoughts together enough to send anything tangible through their Bond, let alone reassuring. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay, Doll. Just hold still, don’t move.” Jim’s worried face appeared above him, hands reaching for his face, neck and following through in a thorough check of Bruce’s entire body, presumably looking for wounds. As Jim reached his left ankle, however, Bruce sat bolt upright as the gentle pressure of Jim’s examination was enough to cause pain to race up Bruce’s leg. 

Jim placed a hand on Bruce’s shoulder, guiding him back to a supine position. After a tender caress to Bruce’s cheek, and a low order to stay still, Jim went back to Bruce’s ankle. Bruce could feel the concentration and determination overt the Bond, but also a little bit of guilt over the pain Jim’s examination was causing. Bruce didn’t like that guilt, so he did his best not to add to Jim’s distress over the situation and determinedly stayed silent. 

As if to top off the whole debacle, the sky gave an ominous grumble and their earlier fears of rain seemed to be coming into fruition. Jim’s frustration added to the swirl of emotions. 

Jim finished his field dressing of Bruce’s wound fairly quickly- if two sturdy sticks and some bandages could be called such. After that, they both sat in silence, Bruce still laying down, Jim crouched to the side of him. 

With a huff of exhaled breath, Jim was the one to break the silence. “Well, now that I have a captive audience, maybe you can tell me what has got you all tied in knots this last week, and maybe what was going through that big brain of yours up there.” 

With a hand over his eyes, Bruce wanted to hide his tears of shame from Jim for as long as he could. “Oh, Jim. I didn’t mean to! I just noticed it myself. I’m going to be one of the few unlucky ones to have a Bonded that _hates_ them!” Well, there goes the calm and dignified option of discussion. 

Gentle fingers combing through his hair was what finally drew Bruce out of the despair he was indulging in. “Is this about you being the Will in our Bond?” 

That question jolted Bruce out of his fit. Yanking his hand down from his face, Bruce looked to his Bonded’s tender expression. “Then, you knew?! Did you know when I… _Willed_ you a few days ago?” 

Laughing outright now, Jim ruffled the fingers in Bruce’s hair with apparent fondness. “You didn’t necessarily _Will_ me to do anything that night. I could tell what you wanted, and I _did_ feel an impulse to acquiesce to what you wanted. But, _Bruce_ , I was going to let you take lead on our parent’s case anyway. You didn’t put any influence on me that I didn’t accept freely.” 

“But… But, _don’t you care?!_ Doesn’t it _bother you_ that I am the… dominant one in our Bond? That I am the Will?” 

“Sure, when I first started to realize you had more control in our Bond, more sensitivity, _and what that must mean_ , I was a little bitter about it.” Jim’s soft voice, the massaging fingers in Bruce’s hair coupled with the actual words being spoken all put Bruce to an enraptured state. “I mean, here I am, twenty-seven years old, bonded to a thirteen-year-old, working a dangerous job, and I am relying on my underage Bonded for the roof over my head. The Bonded family I was hoping to join into was the first murder case I landed in Gotham. And to top it all off, my little Bonded has the stronger mind in our Bond, despite countless academic studies stating the astronomical unlikelihood of such a thing happening.” Amidst this outpouring, Bruce could not keep a few tears from falling down the side of his face. Jim gently caught them with his thumb before resuming his speech. “However, I realized that I now had _a Bonded_. I also have Alfred, who is nothing to shake a stick at, and I have Captain and Harvey at the GCPD. If I count Barbara and Selina, who are bad friends, maybe, but still friends, I am not that bad off, really. And as for you being the Will in our Bond, I realized I should not have been surprised at all.” 

Bruce listened to this unprecedented speech from his Bonded. They had spoken about their pasts at the _White Ace_ in Switzerland, but this naked outpouring of emotions was unlike his Bonded. It was as Jim was going through his diatribe that Bruce realized that his own preoccupation during this hike had been overlaying Jim’s contentedness. What a pair they made. 

“So, you don’t mind that I am the Will?” 

“No, Doll, I _couldn’t_ mind you being the way you are. _I love every part of you_.” Jim’s sincerity swiftly gave way to levity. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to let you run all over me. When I make a decision you don’t agree with, I want you to respect that and talk to me about it. While you may be the stronger in our Bond, I am not one to take things lying down. I won’t _let_ you go all power crazy, okay?” 

As Jim finished his little speech, Bruce started giggling; the relief Jim’s words gave him leading to the giggles. This whole situation was ridiculous. Bruce had always prided himself on his maturity and calm in the face of obstacles, but his recent tantrum had led him to being injured and to putting Jim in a situation where he felt the need to vent his feelings _out loud_. His strong, outwardly stoic Bonded, forced to discuss feelings. It was too much, and he said as much to Jim. 

Soon they were both laughing. As the giggles tapered off, Jim was the one who finally said they must go. But to continue on or to turn back? “First, we need to climb back up this hateful hill. I think sunrise is just a few hours away.” 

“Yes. I believe I can make it up the… Jim?! What are you doing?!” Bruce cried out as his Bonded started to lift him bridal style. “You are _not_ going to carry me up this hill! Don’t be ridiculous, Jim, _please_.” He had gotten them into this mess, and he could at least get himself out of it. That didn’t mean he would turn his nose up to Jim’s shoulder. He had pride, but he wasn’t _stupid_. 

Finally letting his wriggling Bonded down, Jim let Bruce get his balance before wrapping an arm around Bruce’s waist for support. They then made their slow and laborious way up the hill. 

They were both huffing and puffing from exertion as they reached the crest. They both noticed simultaneously the light and crackling of a fire as a voice called out, “Hello, there, Masters.” Jim and Bruce stood with mouths agape at the sight of Alfred in hiking gear, sitting by a very welcoming fire. “Well, you two certainly took your time. What, did you stop off for a pie and a pint on the way out, did you?” 

“How long have you been there?” Jim asked suspiciously. 

“Well, I don't know, about a half hour. Just when you started lugging that weight up that very nasty hill,” came the ‘butter wouldn’t melt’ reply accompanied with a dismissive gesture at Bruce hanging off Jim’s shoulder. 

“Thanks for your help.” 

“Yeah, I never got you two down there, you know.” Neither Jim nor Bruce could argue with this point. Seeming to notice Bruce’s injury for the first time, Alfred asked, “You all right? Come here.” 

Grateful for the warmth, Bruce let Jim guide him to a sitting position next to Alfred by the fire. “We’re cold, we’re tired, and my ankle's sprained.” 

“Oh.” Came Alfred’s entirely noncommittal reply. 

Sitting next to his Bonded, Jim added, “We both could use a good long nap when we get home.” 

“You want to go home? Or do you want to wait and watch the sunrise? Like you did with your dad.” 

Keeping a straight face, Bruce offered. “Alfred you can wait with us, if you think you can handle it.” 

“If I can handle it? Mate, this place is positively cushy compared to some of the places I've slept at. Cup of tea, you cheeky monkey?” 

Accepting the tin from Alfred with as much grace as possible, Bruce hid his smile in the cup. Jim also received a cup of tea to warm up and they all three huddled together for warmth. Bruce didn’t know exactly when he fell asleep, but he woke up to Alfred’s gentle voice at his ear, “Master B. Sunrise.” 

Bruce opened his eyes to the yellow, oranges and reds of a new day. Looking to the side, Bruce could see the warm colors reflected in his Bonded’s gaze. With Alfred at his shoulder, and his Bonded by his side, Bruce thought the future looked pretty wonderful right about then. 

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  



	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Chapter Description: Old friends, Masked Villains, and Secret Bonds ._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here is a long chapter in light of the long wait.
> 
> As always, this work is unbeta'd and standard disclaimers apply.

**Chapter 9**  
  
Jim was just getting home from another long shift. He had finally caught up with the paperwork from his weekend off for their family hike. It would have been an even more productive night if Harvey hadn’t been insistent on going out for drinks to discuss their love lives. Or, as Harvey had intended for it to be, an interrogation of Jim and how things were going with Alfred. 

“So, taboo or whatever, I just gotta know. Is Alfred your Bonded?” 

Jim had almost gone into cardiac arrest at that question. The beer he had been drinking had went spraying all across the bar. Giving a sheepish look to the barman’s look of disgust, Jim had started mopping up the beer, all the while trying to come up with something to say. He didn’t want to outright _lie_ to Harvey any more than he had already. Actually, it _could_ be argued that he had not _lied_ per se, he had just _allowed_ people to make their own assumptions. Still… Harvey was his partner. It was weighing on Jim more the longer he kept the secret from Harvey. 

Not only that, but it would be nice to have a friend in the know he could talk with. Especially since all of the ‘you wouldn’t understand about Bonds’ comments Harvey had been smugly reiterating were getting on his nerves. Jim _did_ understand! Well, not the complete Bond part, since Harvey and Scottie had taken no time at all to get through all stages. Whenever Harvey would get a distant or distract look in his face, Jim _knew_ it was the NAB and it irked him that he couldn’t comment on how embarrassing the glee that suffused Harvey’s face was. How Harvey’s gruff comments did nothing to distract from the look of contentment he got in communicating through his Bond. It was sickeningly sweet. 

So, here Harvey was, gloating about his Bond, all ‘if you were Bonded you would understand.’ Which, again, Jim _did_! He just could not let his guard down enough to show it. He had to hide the joy his Bond brought him. He could never let his expressions show the effects of the NAB for fear of people starting to suspect he had a Bond. It was frankly exhausting. And, having to deal with Harvey’s Bonded bliss was not helping matters. 

Not that Jim was ready to confess his Bond. Bruce had agreed that it was still wise to keep their Bond a secret. Plus, Jim shuddered at the thought of suffering Alfred’s wrath if Jim were to let the information out. He didn’t have a death wish after all. It was just… Harvey was _so open_ about his Bond with Scottie. It made a guy feel a little guilty was all…

“No.” Jim was finally able to calmly reply. “No, we are just… Alfred is just a really good man. We are… Christ, Harvey, what do you want me to say? I never gave you this much fuss when you… consoled yourself with the women you did, before Scottie. Just because you have had your Initial Conversation doesn’t mean you can force your happiness down other people’s throats.” Wow. Jim hadn’t meant for it to come out _that_ bitter… but it was a relief to get it out there.

Raising his hands in good natured surrender, showing he had not taken offense, Harvey smiled wryly. “Okay, brother, I hear ya. I just- Now that I have first-hand experience of a Bond, well... I have noticed that you sometimes get an abstracted scrunchy look on your face. At first, I thought you may have been a victim of chronic bowel problems, but now that I have the NAB running through my mind 24/7, your expression is starting to look a little familiar.”

“Nope, chronic bowel problems sounds about right,” Jim cut in with as much dryness as he could. Harvey had noticed…? And he had been doing his best to hide his expressions when the Bond was really affecting him too. Pride goeth before the fall, Jim supposed. 

“So, would you say you were currently exclusive with that butler? Because, let me tell you, that new hot doctor lady has been giving you some serious _eyes_. It’s getting a little uncomfortable for the rest of us how oblivious you are to the whole thing. I mean, with Barbara out of the way, maybe the two of you can add a bit of… _nursing_ to fan the flames of your relationship…?”

Jim was just glad Harvey had had the grace to not ask this when Jim had taken another gulp of beer. _Of all the… his partner was_ ridiculous! “Do you mean Dr. Thompkins? No! Alfred and I are _fine!_ There is no way…! Geez, Harvey. Just leave it, _please_.”

Harvey snorted disbelievingly, but left the questioning there. They had moved on to safer topics but Jim had been too disconcerted by the conversation. He called it a night and headed home. 

As he pulled his car into the garage, he saw the flickering light in the study. Bruce wasn’t awake, Jim could feel, but he had taken to falling asleep on the couch. Despite how both Jim and Alfred had tried to convince Bruce that a proper night’s sleep was necessary for a growing teen, Bruce’s stubborn nature won out. 

Bruce had taken his sole status as investigator of their parent’s murder with a renewed vigor recently. It probably had to do with the board at Wayne Enterprises finally agreeing to meet with Bruce. Jim knew that the board was expecting to only have a young and naïve boy to deal with. He almost wished he could be there when his little Bonded blew their expectations out of the water. But, if Bruce was Jim’s secret, the reverse was also true. They couldn’t be seen to interact more than it was expected for the _lover_ of the Wayne Manor Butler, and the young master of Wayne Manor to. 

Jim made it to the study without running into Alfred- a truly rare occurrence. Jim stopped in the doorway of the room, taking a moment to just appreciate his Bonded sprawled across the sofa, set aglow by the flickering fire light. As we went to pick Bruce up to carry him to his room, he noticed a notebook open on his stomach. Picking it up idly, his focus was caught by his Bonded’s neat scrawl across the page.

_When did Welzyn begin chemical warfare research?_

_Why did Wayne Enterprises Board start the research?_

_Did my parents know about Welzyn?_

_Why did Wayne Enterprises cede Arkham project shares to criminal organizations?_

_Did Wayne Enterprises do business with Lovecraft?_

_What is Indian Hill?_

Oh, Bruce. When his Bonded got an idea in his big brain, he was never gonna let it go. Jim just hoped that his meeting with the board would satisfy his curiosity. What Jim really hoped was that the board would have ways to explain away the questions and allegations Bruce would be throwing at them. 

Jim knew that Alfred had been looking to Jim to dissuade Bruce from this path, but he just… it was _hard_ for Jim to deny Bruce anything he was this set on doing. Alfred should know how Bruce was… Jim could _probably_ convince Bruce to put the meeting off, but… There was no way for Jim to do so without using the Bond and he wasn’t willing to go to that extreme length without an equally serious cause. He just didn’t feel that meeting the board was that cause. And, he thought that Bruce’s fervor may be banked a bit if he were able to get a few of his questions answered. 

Jim had placed Bruce in his bed and was just closing the door to head to his own room when his phone started to vibrate in his pocket. Looking at the caller ID, he didn’t recognize the number. 

“This is Jim Gordon.”

“Hi! Hello, Jim? This is Leslie Thompkins. I thought you were the best to call about his. I was visiting the circus tonight, you know, ‘The Flying Graysons?’ Well, I was at their show and a fight broke out!”

A little disconcerted at the woman having his number, Jim was almost struck silent. He was _just_ able to bring his mind to what she was actually saying. “A fight? Did you call the department? I am off duty now…”

“Oh, yes, of course, the police were called for that. That’s not all, though! The patrolmen that are here say they’re not qualified to investigate the murder, so that’s why I called you.”

Putting aside the glee that Dr. Thompkins was expressing, Jim focused on the pertinent details. “Wait, _murder_? The fight was that serious?”

“No, no! It was the snake dancer! Can you believe it? She seems to have been a very popular love interest around here!”

That was how Jim found himself back at the GCPD after a brief investigation of the crime scene from the circus. He had actually had the majority of the circus follow him to the precinct to get all of the information he could for his investigation. Dr. Thompkins being his exited shadow the entire time. 

Harvey still looked a bit hungover when he walked in later that morning. He had probably not gotten enough sleep after the drinking they did in the bar last night. Jim knew _he_ hadn’t.

“Morning, partner. Gonna need a little help here.”

“No kidding.” Harvey looked dazedly around at all the costumed people. “I mean, you're kidding, right? This isn't an elaborate prank or-?”

If it was a joke, it was on both of them. As they interrogated the most likely suspects, Jim and Harvey grew more and more exasperated. Jim could tell that these people found their concerns to be serious, like all people, really, but to hold a grudge for more than three generations over a _horse_? 

Still, it hadn’t been for nothing. The Valeska kid had set off alarm bells in Jim’s mind. He just couldn’t put his finger down on why, though. He could admit to himself that he _may_ be a little distracted and bitter about being called in and away from Bruce. His Bonded had set up the meeting with the Wayne Enterprises board for the next morning. While Jim knew he couldn’t have gone with, he had hoped to be home when Bruce left and when he got back so that Jim could get the details first thing. Oh, well. Either Bruce or Alfred would call him if there was anything really important to tell. And, he might still make it back home it time to at least see them off…

So, he and Harvey were stuck explaining to the Captain the little findings they had been able to get. God thing Ed and Dr. Thompkins were there to give a bit more information.

“Your victim, Lila Valeska, was killed by a large knife or hatchet. Multiple blows to the head and upper torso.” Ed said happily.

“Around 3 yesterday afternoon.” Dr. Thompkins cut in. 

“From 2:30 to 4:15, both Grayson and Lloyd were in the ring for the matinee.”

“Well, how precise is that time of death?” Captain Essen asked.

“Give or take 45 minutes.” Dr. Thompkins replied decidedly.

“Still possible then, but cutting it close,” Captain Essen said thoughtfully. She turned to Jim and Harvey. “Hold and press your guys, but keep looking.”

After Jim had dismissed the circus performer, with the exclusion of the two main suspects, he turned to see Dr. Thompkins hovering by his desk. 

“You can really pull off tough detective. ’Nobody leave town.’” Dr. Thompkins was all smiles and sparkling brown eyes. 

Maybe Harvey had been on to something when he mentioned the woman making ‘eyes’ at him. Still, Jim would deal with it when it came up. In the meantime, it wouldn’t hurt to be nice, right? “Sounds better when you say it.”

Dr. Thompkins’ eyes twinkled even more as she laughed. “I have to ask. If you were to guess, who do you think killed Lila?”

“I try not to guess. I work the suspects and I wait on forensics.”

“Excuse me.” An older man broke in, and a very interesting one at that. He had maroon sunglasses that matched his maroon three-piece suit, and he was being escorted by a little boy with a crocket style hat perched atop his head. “Am I speaking to Detective James Gordon?”

“Yes.”

“Then this must be Dr. Thompkins, the medical examiner.”

“I'm sorry, how did you know who we were?”

“My name is Paul Cicero. I'm a psychic with the sideshow. Lila Valeska was an old friend of mine.”

“A psychic. I see. How could I help you, Mr. Cicero?”

“I sense that you don't think Owen or Alphonse are guilty.”

 _That_ got Jim to do more than humor the old man. Jim _didn’t_ think the two remaining suspects were the killers. But he had also told Dr. Thompkins the truth when he said he did not rely solely on his gut feelings. He waited until he had concrete evidence to report. “You must be psychic.”

The old man continued as if Jim had not spoken. “In which case, perhaps you'd like to hear the message Lila sent me from the other side.”

Snorting internally, Jim declined as graciously as he could. “Thanks, Mr. Cicero, we're not quite looking at the other side just yet.”

“As you wish. I'm merely a messenger.”

Jim was about to turn to start on his paperwork, when Dr. Thompkins’s voice cut in. “What's the message?”

“Thank you, Doctor. Lila told me that the servant of the Devil lies in the garden of the Iron Sisters.”

“The Iron Sisters? What does that mean?”

With an air of sincere regret, the old psychic said, “I don't know.”

Snorting internally, Jim was just able to dismiss the old man cordially.

Dr. Thompkins turned to him with a disappointed expression. “Well, that wasn't very open-minded of you.”

“Doctor. He's a fraud. He's gonna go straight to the press and say he's consulting on the case. He's looking for publicity.” Jim tried to explain but could see that the doctor wasn’t convinced. “If you were gonna send a message from beyond the grave, don't you think priority number one would be the killer's name and not a riddle?”

“Who knows how it works?”

Great. An open minded doctor. Jim could see the woman was not gonna be dissuaded from her beliefs. “I'm not gonna argue with you. But I do have some paperwork to get back to, so…”

“Okay. I’ll be down in the lab… uh, cleaning up. If you need anything?”

Jim just nodded noncommittally and went pointedly to his desk where the required paperwork was sitting. Dr. Thompkins left and he was able to get back to work. If he was lucky, he would be able to get this finished quickly. In fact, it was just as he was wrapping up the paperwork as Dr. Thompkins reappeared suddenly at his desk again looking excited. She began talking as soon as she saw she had his attention. 

“I was thinking of my sister, and it came to me. I think I know what the blind man's message means.

The servant of the devil lies in the garden of the Iron Sisters? It's Arkham Bridge. The towers.

They're called, uh, Mary and Betty?”

“I remember, as a kid, we used to call them that, but…”

But Dr. Thompkins was on a roll and she broke back in. “Right. And there's a park, um, under the towers on the Gotham side.” At Jim’s skeptical silence, Dr. Thompkins’ voice became more exasperated. “A garden? It all fits.”

“Dr. Thompkins, it fits an impossible story. He didn't speak with Lila Valeska; she's dead.”

“So you say!”

“Come on, you're a doctor. A scientist.” Jim tried to appeal to her.

“There are plenty of things in this world that can't be explained by rational science.”

Actually starting to appreciate the woman’s passion, Jim had to hand it to her persistence. Still, he could tell she still had some arguments at her disposal. Who was Jim to deny her the pleasure? So, Jim continued to portray his skepticism. “Yeah, people who enjoy folk dancing, for instance. Doesn't mean ghosts exist.”

“You're very arrogant in your certainty. What if this is a clue to a murder? The poor woman!”

She had him there. Even though he did not believe Mr. Cicero was a psychic, the man was part of the circus. There had to have been a reason for him to have given that specific clue. “Fine. I'll go myself.”

“Thank you. I'll come with you, just let me get my coat.” Dr. Thompkins turned before he could break in or make an argument for going in the morning. 

Well, Jim could still make it back home to see Bruce and Alfred off before heading to bed… Making use of Dr. Thompkins’ absence, Jim gave Bruce a quick call to explain his second night away from home.

“Jim,” Bruce answered on the first ring; his pleasure at Jim’s call was as always a heady experience. 

“Hey, doll. I’m just calling to say I probably won’t be making it home tonight. I wanted to say good luck, though, with the meeting tomorrow. In case I don’t make it back in the morning.”

“Oh, that’s fine.” Bruce took on an understanding tone. “Did the case take an interesting turn…?”

“Yeah, I can’t wait to tell you all about it when the investigation is over, Doll.” Jim always tried to keep the integrity of his investigations in tact while they were underway. And, now that Bruce had promised to stay away from Jim’s investigations, it was a much easier job. However, when the investigation was over, Jim found great pleasure in telling Bruce fun little tidbits. Bruce took just as much pleasure from detective work as Jim did. 

“Alright, good night, Jim. I wish you success.”

Laughing at the formal statement, Jim said good night back before hanging up. He was drawn away from his contemplation of his phone by the clearing of a throat. Turning to see Dr. Thompkins standing there with a jacket on, looking for the first time a little uncertain, brought Jim back to the here and now. “Ready?”

The woman nodded and that was how Jim found himself spending a second night investigating this case with Dr. Thompkins. They had been canvassing in silence under Arkham Bridge for about ten minutes before Dr. Thompkins hesitantly spoke up. “So, you have someone waiting for you back home?”

Looking at the woman’s earnest gaze, Jim knew he had to be honest. “Yeah. I have tried to keep it on the down-low, though it has been an uphill battle with how much Harvey- Detective Bullock teases me.”

Taking on an almost melancholy expression, Dr. Thompkins’ smiled kindly. “I thought you had just been playing… _hard to get_ , or something. I guess it’s good to know my feminine wiles are not defunct.” Here, she laughed a little at Jim’s awkward sputtering. “Don’t worry, now that I know I won’t continue my advances. Is… are you Bonded, then?”

Swinging his flashlight around, Jim used the ruse of looking for a clue to stall for time. Here was a woman who had opened herself for a potential relationship, which was hard to do for unBonded persons, Jim knew from experience, and the one she had an eye on was unavailable. On one hand, if Jim confessed he was Bonded, it would stop all her advances right there, which was the best outcome he could wish for. On the other hand, Jim knew the whole precinct was under the impression he was dating Alfred. 

Harvey had just asked if he was Bonded with Alfred, but Jim had told the truth there. He couldn’t tell Dr. Thompkins he was Bonded to Alfred, who was the only one Jim could admit to seeing… But, if he was just _dating_ Alfred, he could still be considered ‘on the market.’ The only people truly ‘off the market’ were those with a Bond. Still, the woman said she wouldn’t pursue him any longer…

“Alfred… The whole precinct _knows_ I am… with Alfred. I’m surprised you haven’t heard any of the rumors about us floating about. How he’s my… well. There are plenty of rumors it is hard to keep up with the exact ones. I guess all that matters is that we care deeply for one another. So, no, I am not _available_. But… we _aren’t_ Bonded.”

Dr. Thompkins placed her hand on his shoulder in a brief expression of support. “Thank you for telling me. I guess I just haven’t been around long enough to be included in gossip. I really have only spoken to you and Ed long enough for conversations. And, Ed, well… He isn’t interested in gossip.” Here Dr. Thompkins took on a look of good humor. “Unless he _is_ and he has expressed it in those riddles of his and I have just been unable to understand…” 

Jim laughed a little at that, glad that hurdle had been overcome. “Yeah, I guess you're right. Dr. Thompkins…” Jim trails off as his flashlight suddenly reflected back at him. Bending to get a better look, Jim picks up the object and displays it for the doctor.  
“THFC. What does that mean?”

“The Hellfire Club. It's a Satanist cult. Committed a string of ritual murders. But they haven't been active for a decade or more.”

“I guess they're back.”

“No. No, I don't think so.” 

Back at the GCPD, Jim is greeted by the sergeant on duty. “Sir, they're in three and four.” 

“Thanks, Zeke. Neither of them knows the other one's here, right?”

“Right, like you said.”

On the way back, Jim had briefly told Dr. Thompkins his suspicions. So, he couldn’t help but turn a smug look to the doctor. She obliged him with a polite smile as she spoke. “Ah, good work. Just bear in mind that you could be wrong - about all of this.”  
“I will bear it in mind. I will, but I'm not wrong.” Jim was sure of that much, at least. The clues were all there. 

Pouting slightly, Dr. Thompkins spoke in a gruff parody of Jim’s voice, “So go on home now, lady.”

“Hey. I am not the one who wanted to go out searching for Satanist hatchets. You know I wanted to go home to… Alfred.”

Dr. Thompkins laughed affably. “You're right. I do tend to get overly enthusiastic about things. It's an issue for me. My mom always said… Oh, who gives a crap what my mom said, right? Have a good night, detective. Let me know how it all turns out.”  
“Good night, Dr. Thompkins.” Jim said back but as she turned to go he changed his mind. He couldn’t let the woman leave when she looked so dissatisfied. “Wait! You’ve been a great help today. What you said earlier, about not dismissing Mr. Cicero… You were right. Let's go.”

Dr. Thompkins looked one second away from jumping in glee, but she kept her dignity intact with an austere nod. 

They found the old psychic from before In the interrogation room. After the pleasantries were put aside, Jim got down to accusing the man of being an accessory to murder. The man’s air of mystical importance and his vague words dried up abruptly as the young Mr. Valeska was escorted in to sit next to him. 

Jim turned to the young red-headed teen who had lost his mother the night before. “Do you know why you're here?”

“Did you find out who killed my mother?” 

Jim had to give it to the young man. His soft tones and sincere expression was a very good guise. It was too bad that Jim would see the darkness lurking in the depths of his eyes. He had noticed when he questioned Mr. Valeska the day before. Seeing him again cemented it for Jim. “You killed your mother, Jerome.”

“Me?” Jerome asked with a wounded tone.

“You killed her up on that hill and Mr. Cicero let you clean up in his trailer. He told you to scratch the Satanist stuff on the hatchet and throw it off the bridge.”

“Sir, that's… absurd and… and offensive.”

“But it's the truth. What I don't know is why this man risked so much to help you. I think he's your father.”

What followed was a very interesting back and forth between father and son. However, the young man eventually gave in to the truth in light of Dr. Thompkins’ offer to do a blood test and the old psychic agreeing to the allegations. Jerome Valeska took on a very disturbed smile and his voice turned nasty. 

“My father Hm. I'll be damned. Oh, that's very funny. Ba-doom-shh! Looks like the bitch got me with a zinger in the end.”

The young man was clearly disturbed, and his laughter was such that it left chills running down his spine, even an hour later. When the booking is finished Jim goes to check on Dr. Thompkins. She seemed to have been equally disturbed in the investigation room. He eventually found her in the locker room. She sat there looking despondent.

Looking up at Jim’s approach, Dr. Thompkins smiled wanly. “Long night, huh? Guess it got kind of ugly.”

“Yes, it did. You okay?”

“I'm good. Truly. It was ugly, but it was also kind of thrilling.” Here, the good doctor’s smiled turned giddy. 

“Thrilling?”

“Thrilling and scary. Like- Like looking down a deep, dark tunnel. Thanks for letting me be there.”

“Doctor, you are an unusual woman.”

“You just don't know many women.” She continued to smile as she said, “I think you can call me Lee now. After the adventure we had tonight.”

“You are right. I will if you call me Jim.” 

Lee agreed readily. Jim smiled down at Lee as well and was about to say something when the clicking of heels in the halls leading to the locker room distracted them. Jim was greatly surprised to see it was Barbara. She looked beautiful, dressed elegantly and had a charming smile on her face. A smile that fell slightly as she noticed the other woman sitting across from Jim’s shocked standing stance. “Oh, am I interrupting…?”

“No, no,” Lee said, standing as well, brushing her clothes briskly. “I was just leaving. Jim, it has been fun. We have to do it again sometime.”

All Jim could do was nod distractedly at Lee’s retreating form, focused as he was on Barbara. The longer the silence went on, the more Barbara started to fidget. She finally huffed and said smiled tremulously. “It’s good to see you, Jim.”

“So, you’re back?” Jim couldn’t help but scoff. “Good of you to come to see me.”

Barbara had the grace to look guilty. “I’m sorry, Jim! I really am. I just… it’s been hard. After Zsasz and, and… I had to get my head on straight. You got my note?”

Turning so he wouldn’t have to look at the frustrating woman, Jim spoke with as calm a voice as he could manage. “Yes, Barbara, I did. But I haven’t heard hide nor hair from you since! Do you know how worried I have been?”

“I know!” Barbara shouted. “I knew you would be worried, but… You had Br… Alfred.” Barbara looked behind her at the open locker room door. “I heard you went to Switzerland?”

Taking a deep breath, Jim turned back to Barbara. He couldn’t stay mad in the face of her hesitant smile. “Yes. I… Have you been back to the penthouse?”

“I have.” Barbara laughed a little here. “I found two boarders living in my front room, but it’s okay. Good company, at least. Selina said you dropped off your key with Alfred and Bruce a while ago? She tried to give me advice on how to win back both you and Alfred…”

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” Jim finally gave in, laughing with Barbara at Selina’s precociousness. “Speaking of Alfred and Bruce, I have to get back to them tonight. I haven’t’ been home for almost two nights…”

Nodding quickly, Barbara said, “So, you need to get home. Can we meet up soon, though?”

Jim walked up to Barbara and gave her a quick hug. “Yes, we’ll have to at that. Just, I’ll call you, okay?”

It turns out, however, when he made it home Bruce was already in bed in order to be fresh faced for the board meeting the next day. Losing his appetite with his disappointment at missing his chance to talk face-to-face with Bruce, Jim went straight to his room and practically passed out before he could even take his shoes off. To top it off, when he woke up the next day, Bruce and Alfred had already left for the meeting. Decidedly _not_ pouting, Jim ate the breakfast Alfred had left for him before deciding there was nothing for it but to head back to work. 

When he got there, two of the circus members were there to thank him for solving the case quickly. Jim’s bad mood was greatly appeased by their effusive gratefulness. He was even smiling as they left. 

“Why so happy?” Harvey asked as he came in to sit at his desk.

Gesturing at the retreating performers, Jim explained, “Happy customers.”

“That's not it. It's something else. You got laid, didn't you?”

With that comment, Jim’s good mood dampened a little. He had _not_ gotten laid for going on a year now… and wouldn’t for another five years at least. Now _that_ was a very sobering thought… Shaking his head and going to sit at his own desk, Jim answered Harvey as dryly as possible. “That's impressive.”

Taking that as an affirmative, Harvey continued with his assumption. “So, you and your sugar daddy…”

“Alfred.”

“… _Alfred_ , are doing fine?”

“So, you and Scottie are doing fine?”

The two looked at one another in silent battle before they both cracked at the same time and smiled. They went back to work. 

That evening, Jim finally got the details about Bruce’s meeting with the Wayne Enterprises board. Mostly from Alfred ranting. “’… corruption, bribery, racketeering, and unethical medical research,’ he says, and ‘next shareholders' meeting with a view to possible legal action,’ and ‘if I were a man, I would be chairing this board.’” Alfred was serving dinner throughout this diatribe, with no pause in his efficiency. “You should have seen him, Master James. Proper little businessman. Gonna get himself a big ‘ol target on his head, mark me, he will.”

Through this recounting, Bruce’s face was set in exasperation. He kept rolling his eyes behind Alfred’s back before moving back into stoicism when Alfred turned to face him.

Jim smiled at Bruce encouragingly. “So, you think they took you seriously?”

“I believe I conveyed my seriousness most sincerely.” Bruce happily dug into his meal, obviously relieved to have done what he did. 

Alfred seems to be a little more skeptical. His look to Jim conveys both his pride in Bruce but his worry. It was a very dividing set of feelings, Jim could tell.

“Well, that is great Bruce. It sounds like you gave them something to think about.”

Jim never remembered to bring up Barbara.

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


  
Jim had come home as the most recent case he was working on was at a standstill. A group of bank robbers who used the unique strategy of throwing money at the masses to create a diversion for their getaway. 

It was another rainy evening, so, Jim was looking forward to relaxing with his two favorite people that night. And that is where they all were- lazing by the fire, chatting idly about their days’ events, when a knocking came to the door. Looking towards the already half standing Alfred, Jim sighs and stands as well. Giving Jim an acknowledging look, Alfred allowed Jim to follow behind as the butler went to answer the door. Jim was grateful that Alfred understood, and was probably in agreement with, Jim’s paranoia due to the last visitor being an assassin in disguise. 

Glancing again at Jim before he opened the door, Alfred spoke politely, “Yes, sir. How can I help you?” Alfred’s bland voice turned to shock as he asked lowly, “Reggie?”

An accented voice drifted through the door, the owner just out of Jim’s eye line. “Sorry for calling so late. Forgive me.”

“Oh, my God, mate. How long's it been?”

“20 years.”

Alfred turned to the side to allow the visitor in and Jim saw a man about Alfred’s age, with dark brown hair, rounded features with laugh and smiles lines around the eyes and mouth, and considerably worse for wear clothing. As the two stood together, silent in their contemplation of one another, Jim slowly eased his grip on the trigger of the pistol he had surreptitiously palmed and put the safety on. 

As the silence dragged on, Jim felt compelled to call out, “Alfred? Don’t you think your friend could use some drying up?”

The man’s reaction was very telling. As Alfred started out of his reminiscing trance and went back into butler mode, he missed the startle and immediate defensive stance that the visitor took on. Judging by the familiar bearing, Jim could guess that this man trained, and probably fought with Alfred back in his war days. 

“Right, right. Reggie, this is Jim. Jim, Reggie.” Alfred waved the dripping man further inside and started to lead Reggie towards the first floor bathrooms, Jim assumed. Jim didn’t follow. The significant look Alfred sent his way towards the living room gave Jim all the incentive he needed. 

He rushed back to the living room where Bruce had miraculously stayed put. As he entered the room, Jim could not resist bringing the waiting Bruce into a quick but strong hug. It might be the last in a while, if Jim knew Alfred’s and Bruce’s kind hearted ways at all. Kissing Bruce softly on the head, Jim pulled back and took in his dazed Bonded. 

“We have a visitor. Looks like an old friend of Alfred’s is a little down on his luck.”

Bruce took in all the implications of that statement almost immediately. His flushed cheeks went brighter as he took on a determined expression. He quickly gave Jim an equally fervent hug and spoke into Jim’s chest. “We have to help him. So… Then I guess you’ll have to… be Alfred’s lover, even here.” 

Jim fully related to the feeling of displeasure Bruce was projecting at the prospect of having to hide in a place where they had been able to be themselves. Visitors always meant they would have to put on a façade. Jim knows it would be illogical to keep themselves in seclusion when at the Manor. Heck, they had a skeleton crew that followed a strict schedule on when they could do the housework Alfred needed help with, and those that worked on the grounds. Alfred had come up with an extremely detailed timeline that the crew all had to follow, just so that Jim and Bruce did not have to worry about the employees stumbling over them and getting the wrong ( _right_ ) idea. 

Still, none of them were the types to turn away a friend in need. So, that left Jim with a daunting task, and he would need Bruce’s help to get it done. Pulling back reluctantly, Jim looked into his Bonded’s hazel eyes, Jim asked, “You know if Alfred locks his room up?”

Alfred found Bruce and Jim back in the living room, sitting a respectable distance apart. Jim smiled stiffly at Alfred, before turning his gaze towards the man standing still behind Alfred. 

Clearing his throat, the butler gestured the man in and introduced him properly. “Um, Jim,” here Jim almost laughed at how stiffly Alfred said _that_ , “Master Bruce. This is, uh, Reginald Payne. We served together, sir.”

There was a round of awkward handshakes. As Jim took Reggie’s strong grip into his, he noticed the absorbed and almost leery look on the man’s face as he took Jim in as well. Alfred must have told him _something_. What, was this man one of those that did not appreciate two unBonded people of the same gender being together? Or was is something else? Their gaze was broken by Alfred speaking to Bruce. They both disconnected grips and turned to the other two in the room. 

“You were caught in the storm?” Bruce asked politely.

Alfred nodded. “Reggie's had a run of bad luck, Master Bruce.”

“I-I don't wish to be a nuisance.” Reggie had a very nice voice. Scottish, if Jim wasn’t mistaken. The man _seemed_ sincere, but Jim could not forget that look Reggie had gave him… “I just… I hadn't seen Alfie in a very long time.”

“N-No, I'm glad you found us, Mr. Payne. Please, feel free to stay with us a few days.” Bruce’s offer was kind and genuine. However, Jim knew his Bonded, and knew Alfred could hear it as well; there was a hint of chagrin in Bruce’s offer.

Maybe Reggie saw it as well, or he was demurring as he said, “That's very kind of you, but…”

“I insist. Please.” Bruce gestured for them all too sit, a perfect image of a host. They sat.

There was another beat of silence, before Jim broke in. He could barely keep the interrogative detective out of his voice as he asked, “So, Mr. Payne. How did you end up here?”

Huffing out a little embarrassed laugh, Reggie admitted, “I got picked up by the GCPD last night for trying to sleep under the Westbury Bridge.” All three Wayne members stiffened up imperceptibly, with Alfred only able unbend enough to give Reggie the tea he had prepared. Jim listened with even deeper intent than before as Reggie continued without noticing the tensions rising in the room. “Cheers, mate. One of the officers was a Marine, back in the day, so we got to talking. I told him I was with Her Majesty's Special Air Service back in the day. So he took pity on me. He says, ‘Why don't you look up some of your old regiment, you know, see if one of the guys can help you out.’" 

Looking a bit flushed at Reggie suddenly gesturing at him, Alfred spoke slowly, “Well, you know… I'm pleased you looked me up, Reg. But…”

“If anyone would've told me this is where I'd find you, I wouldn't have believed them.”

That was when all hesitance left Alfred in a flare-up of prim dignity. The butler seemed to especially disapprove of the raised eyebrows sent Jim’s way. “I like it here. It's good for me.”

“I can see that.” Reggie gave Jim an exaggerated look. But the man’s leer disintegrated as he turned a grateful gaze back to Alfred. “I've missed you, mate. Missed your ugly mug. Cheers.”

The indignant winds leaving his sails, Alfred asked quietly, “What happened, Reggie?”

“Vanessa died. I just couldn't find the energy to get back out there after my Words went pale, you know? A year later, I lost the house. Moved back to Gotham. I've had a few jobs. Nothing I'm proud of.” The man looked embarrassed at the rapt Jim and Bruce before biting out, “It was the drink, Alfie. It was the drink.”

“Alfie?” Jim broke into the conversation. It had been getting entirely _too_ personal. While Jim wasn’t about to trust the man, he could see that Alfred was extremely affected by his troubles. Jim resolved to diffuse as much of Alfred’s plight as possible. So, Jim turned to the butler with a large grin and asked again, “Alfie? You always told me you were against pet names.”

An entirely uncommon flush suddenly suffused the butler’s face at this. Sending an acerbic look towards Jim, Alfred pointedly ignored Jim’s comment and spoke to the room at large. “It is very late now and I think we all had some stresses to deal with. Jim, I’ll be by as soon as I get Reggie all settled in.”

They all four stood and Reggie gave Jim and Bruce a cordial nod as he followed Alfred out of the room. Jim looked to Bruce and they both broke into laughter at the ridiculousness of the whole situation. 

“When Mr. Payne mentioned the GCPD, did you see how stiff Alfred turned?” Bruce asked through his laughs.

“Yes, ‘stiff upper lip’ I think it’s called. Not that I was exactly _relaxed_ at the mention of the GCPD. His story was not anything to be concerned about; not serious I mean. I’m just wondering how Alfred will tell the man…”

“Do you think he will be… embarrassed at his inadvertent confession to another man of the law?” Bruce asked, still smiling. 

“Alfred will find a way to smooth out any wrinkles.” Jim smiled back, forcing his twitching hand to stay by his side and not to run through Bruce’s hair like he wanted to. “He’s competent, our butler is. And he was right. We should be getting to bed. I have a case I need to be in early for tomorrow.”

However, Jim could not make himself get in the bed when he got to his room. He had already been in his pajamas when Reggie came knocking, so Jim only had a few ablutions to get through before he was stuck waiting for Alfred to turn up. Luckily, it wasn’t too long a wait. Alfred walked right in (Jim had left the door open in fear that the man would _knock,_ or some other ridiculous thing, before entering what was supposed to be _their_ room) and only hesitated as he got halfway to the center.

Running his hands through his hair in equal discomfort, Jim gestured to his closet. “Bruce and I grabbed as many of your suits as we could. Pajamas and other clothing is in the top right drawer. I also moved your toiletries and a towel from your bathroom into mine. It was a good thing your room was so sparse. Otherwise we would have actually had to _move_ you into my room.” Jim could not keep the frustration he felt at that bit of hitherto unknown insight into the man. Jim did not appreciate the dejected feelings Bruce had gone through at realizing the same as Jim. “Alfred… you had _nothing_ personal in your room.”

Looking a little caught out, Alfred cleared his throat again and said gruffly, “Well, I have everything I need right here, don’t I? That other stuff is just rubbish trappings, really.”

“Bruce was worried it meant you don’t see this as… home.” Jim put in lightly.

Alfred had the grace to look a bit uncomfortable at that before he turned a questioning look to Jim. “Ah, _Master Bruce_ was worried, was he? Well, I shall do my best to allay his fears tomorrow, sound good? I will tell Master Bruce that I love it here. It suits me just fine and I have it all set up just to my liking. I will tell _Master Bruce_ that I won’t be leaving my _home_ anytime soon, especially since I’ve been so… fortunate recently.” 

“Good.” Jim let the conversation lie there. “Um, what did you tell Reggie about me? About us?”

Taking the new topic up gratefully, Alfred turned to the drawers to pull out his sleeping attire. As he did, he explained. “Reggie now knows that you are a copper yourself. He felt right brilliant about it, but I assured him you had bigger fish to fry than some chump that got caught sleeping under a bridge. He then chose to give me a good ol’ bullocking for going back on my resolution to be WC. All for a younger man, too. I had to tell him I was a Spoiled Ballot and what did he expect? He then had the gall to tell me he didn’t _blame_ me for finding comfort where I could. Damn cheeky bugger,” Alfred broke off, grumbling.

Jim was flabbergasted by this insight into Alfred that was being offered. Jim knew how tightly Alfred held onto his beliefs in professional distance to a frustrating point and at the most unreasonable times, but he also knew that Alfred cared for both Bruce and Jim. So, little snippets into Alfred’s personal self was not to be taken for granted. They were so few and far between after all. The last time was when Alfred had first told Jim he was still Waiting to Communicate. “Alfred… do you really think you are a Spoiled Ballot?”

Scoffing at Jim’s sympathetic air, Alfred spoke in a condescending tone. “How am I to know, James? I’m going on fifty years soon. My Bonded had the audacity to be born 21 years after me, shaking me unceremoniously out of my belief that I would always be Manifest. Then, my Bonded doesn’t even have the courtesy to speak clearly. So, who can blame me for resorting to assuaging my unsatisfied needs with a hot young thing like you?”

Alfred’s dry tone went to desert levels at this last statement and Jim was pulled from his enraptured state into instant hilarity. He broke down laughing at Alfred’s precise recital.

By the time Jim got control of himself, Alfred had finished his own ablutions and was standing exasperatedly at the foot of Jim’s bed. Sobering entirely at this sight, Jim sat up and tried not to let the awkwardness from before come back. “This’ll be just like old time in the army, right? In light of an old army buddy coming to visit, it actually seems suitable… Sharing close quarters…”

“And I suppose Reggie is the enemy in this instance. We have to go undercover to keep the enemy unawares of the state of our forces.”

“…was that a _pun_ , Alfred?” Jim asked incredulously. “I’m seeing you in a whole new light today.”

With an air of benevolent dignity, Alfred gestured Jim to get under the covers before following his example. After Alfred turned off the side lamp and the room was plunged into darkness, Jim actually found himself surprised by how… _comfortable_ it was. He had expected some shifting or maneuvering to map out where each of their boundaries were. But, Jim found the slight warmth and the knowledge that it was _Alfred_ , his family, lying next to him very soothing. Before he realized it, he was drifting off to sleep with a smile and soft laughing mumble.

“Undercover!”

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


  
The next day at the GCPD, Jim was feeling more refreshed than he had in a while. Alfred had risen before Jim, but the butler’s movements had woken him up. That led to Jim actually being able to have a full breakfast before he headed to work. He hadn’t seen Bruce, or Reggie for that matter, but the lazy and quiet morning was a perfect way to start the day, Jim concluded. He would have to make an effort to repeat it…

His calm wasn’t broken even throughout the ridiculous ‘Red Hood’ case. Not even Harvey could break his quiet. Despite his efforts.

“Give me the double D ‘dirty details’ on that fella of yours. Don't leave anything out. Gotta hand it to you, partner. You two didn't sit around moping. You got right back up on the hobby horse. Let's just hope you can keep your head straight whilst up there. You had the skirt. Now you got yourself a suit.”

That man, _really_.

Not even the fact that he had to stay late and leave Bruce and Alfred to entertain their guest by themselves broke his calm. His brief phone conversation with Bruce that night proved that his Bonded also got the privilege of seeing a bit of Alfred’s past as Jim had the night before. More than the butler wanted to let on, it seems. 

“I was hanging back; to see what they’d say.” Bruce’s voice was quiet in his confession. “Mr. Payne called Alfred a ‘cold-blooded, lethal war dog.’ They both see the faces that they… that they killed. Alfred said Mr. Payne had to leave tomorrow.”

Jim again could relate to the contradictory feelings Bruce was projecting through the Bond. On one hand, Reggie was causing Alfred to recall some very unpleasant memories. On the other, they had learned more about Alfred from this little visit of Reggie’s than they had ever before. Neither of them wanted Alfred to suffer, but they both appreciated every little insight they got into their gruff family member. 

“It’ll be alright, Doll.” Jim tried his best to reassure. “Now that we know there is more to tell, we will just have to harp on the man incessantly until he has no choice but to give in.”

Bruce had laughed at that.

In the end, though, the calm turned out to be temporary. Jim and Harvey had gotten a big breakthrough. They had a witness who pulled out one of their perps from a line up and Harvey and he were able to get all the evidence they needed to close the case. 

They were in the perp’s apartment, chatting about bakeries and bank loans, when Jim was suddenly overwhelmed by feelings of shock and horror and fear. He wasn’t able to hide it from Harvey either. There was no way to mask his sudden gasping breaths, wobbly stance, and tear filled eyes. _Something was really wrong!_

Jim was so focused on the turmoil going through his mind, he barely noticed Harvey rifling through his jacket. It was only when Harvey pulled out his phone and the buzzing stopped as Harvey answered it, that Jim realized his phone had been going off. Using all of his willpower to focus on what Harvey was saying, Jim heard, “…and you called 911? Yeah, yes, Bruce. I need you to calm down, Bruce. Jim is right here, but he’s a little… Oh, look. He’s back with us.”

Yanking the phone from Harvey’s grasp, Jim spoke frantically into the receiver. “Bruce! What happened?! Why…?”

“Alfred- Alfred, has been stabbed! Alfred, look at me! You're gonna be okay. Alfred, stay with me. Please. Jim! He’s not conscious anymore!”

Taking more effort to pull himself from Bruce’s overwhelming fears, Jim tried to soothe his distraught Bonded. Which was a hard job seeing as he himself was distraught. Alfred had been stabbed? Oh, God! “Bruce, you gotta put pressure on the wound. Is the wound spurting? No? Good, then an artery wasn’t hit. Does his airway seem clear? Then his lungs weren’t hit either. You are doing so good, Bruce. Just wait for emergency services. You’ll be just fine. I’ll stay right here on the phone.”

In his peripheral, Jim took note of another set of emergency medical personnel enter his perp’s apartment. Harvey took charge of directing them and eventually leading Jim back down to his car. Jim could only focus on Bruce’s tear-filled voice asking for reassurance and repeated entreaties to Alfred. When Jim heard the new voices on the other end of the phone, he directed Bruce to give the phone to one of the EMTs. “My name is Detective James Gordon. That is my… charge and my lover you have there. I need to know where you are taking him so I can be there.”

After receiving all of the information, Jim was hung up on by the busy EMTs. Jim sat there, in shock, listening to the silence on the other end. Turning to Harvey’s penetrating gaze, Jim croaked out, “Gotham General Hospital. Please.” 

Harvey obligingly started the car and headed to the hospital. Jim was grateful for his partner’s silence because he could not focus on anything other than his grief stricken Bonded. As they pulled up to the ER, Harvey’s voice halted Jim’s attempt to exit. “Jim, I hope your man is alright. But I know a NAB reaction when I see one. I have them first hand, now, ya see. We’re going to talk about that when he gets better.”

Jim could only nod at this order. He and Harvey would have that talk- but not then. He had other things to worry about. Jim rushed in and found Bruce standing in the waiting room, looking small and lost. Rushing forward and gathering Bruce up into his arms, Bruce broke down crying and Jim could not keep a few tears from falling in sympathy. 

Their worried vigil for Alfred lasted the entire night. It was the early morning hours that brought news of Alfred’s condition in the form of the attending physician. Alfred was in stable condition, but he had not regained consciousness. 

“Can we see him?” Bruce asked as calmly as he could.

“Yes, he’s just this way.”

The physician directed them to a room with a glass wall, the curtains pulled to hide what was inside. Jim froze in the doorway as Bruce continued to walk to stand at the end of Alfred’s bed. Alfred, who was out of his customary three-piece suit and in the standard undignified hospital gown. Alfred, who’s gruff but lively facial expressions was hampered by the blank visage of the unconscious, and obstructed by a breathing tube. Alfred, who just the other night had shared a good night’s rest in Jim’s bed, sleeping warmly beside him. Their Alfred.

Bruce turned tear-filled eyes back to Jim and Jim could not have prevented himself from going to his Bonded. Wrapping Bruce into his arms, Bruce hugged him back just as tightly. 

“We can't lose him. He's our family.”

What followed was one of the longest nights of Jim’s life. With Bruce passed out across his lap, Jim felt the need to stay vigil at Alfred’s bedside. There was no telling if the attack on Alfred was a one-time deal, or if the culprit would be back to finish the job. 

Not that Jim did not have a good idea of who the culprit was. There was only one person who had come into their lives recently and who was suspiciously absent now. 

There was only the question of _why?_ Reggie had seemed genuinely happy to see Alfred. He hadn’t had the cleanest visage, but he had hardly registered as a thief and a murderer. Then again, there _had_ been that queer look Reggie had sent Jim’s way that night he first came to visit…

Still, there was no use speculating when Alfred was still unconscious. The butler would tell Jim exactly what happened before Bruce found him bleeding out on the floor. Then, Jim would find the person who did this, be it Reggie or anyone else, and Jim would make them _pay_. Pay for hurting his family, pay for hurting Jim, _pay for hurting Bruce!_

In the meantime, Jim was left fuming to himself as his Bonded slept the sleep of the exhausted from fretting all night, and Alfred slept the sleep of the wounded; All the while, Jim kept his watchful gaze on a swivel. 

When morning came, Jim was still alert as Alfred made the first few movements of wakefulness. Shaking his Bonded gently, Jim gestured to the shifting man on the bed and his Bonded jumped right up. Taking the time to call the nursing staff to check on Alfred, Jim contented himself to watching Bruce calm Alfred down as he came to confused wakefulness, eyes roving around, and choking on the breathing tube. 

After the nursing hustle and bustle was finished, the staff diligently checking Alfred’s vitals and taking the now unneeded tube out, Jim walked up to where Bruce had instantly latched onto Alfred’s hand. Pulling his bonded into a sideways embrace, Jim placed his own hand on Alfred’s shoulder. 

“Don’t do that again, Alfred. I won’t have it; you hear?” Bruce was saying. 

“Yes, Alfred, please think twice before you are stabbed, next time.” Jim broke in earnestly.

Not quite up to full capacity, Alfred just smiled at the two hovering over him and nodded, eyes just a tad unfocused. “My cheeky boys…”

As Alfred was still waking up, and Jim new Bruce would have to be pried from Alfred with a crowbar, it fell to Jim to answer to Bruce’s growling stomach. And his own for that matter. So, Jim left his Bonded with their butler with strict instructions to lock the door while Jim went hunting for food. It was a little encouraging that while Bruce nodded dutifully, Alfred had enough energy to roll his eyes as Jim back out of the room.

When he got back with a paltry bagel for Bruce, Jim saw that Alfred was sitting up and he seemed to be fully aware of his surroundings.

“How you feeling?” Jim asked.

“All right. Had a slight… puncture. Leaked a bit.”

Knowing the humor to be for Bruce’s benefit, and maybe for Jim’s as well, Jim smiled generously at the butler. It was actually a sign that Jim could start to get to the bottom of this whole debacle. And he didn’t plan to be subtle about it, either. “So, why would Reggie stab you?” 

It was at that question that Jim was party to a most incredible sight. While Bruce nodded at the question, it was unflappable Alfred who started to get shifty eyed. “It wasn’t Reggie. It was dark. It was very dark. Saw a shadow and my savior Master Bruce was leaning over me.”

Snorting disbelievingly, Jim gave Alfred a pointed look. Alfred’s face morphed into a look of calm dignity. Snorting again, this time in disgust, Jim asked, “Why are you protecting him?”

“Well, believe it or not, Master James, Reggie's a mate, and you don't set coppers on your mates, do you? Especially when they didn’t do it.” 

“Alfred, he nearly killed you.” Bruce’s low voice broke in and Alfred’s calm faltered before taking on a determined look.

“I served with that bastard. Anyone sorts him out, it's me. Nobody else. It wouldn't be right. _If_ he were the one what stabbed me. _And he wasn’t_.”

“Do you at least know why would he stab you?”

“That's a bloody good question.” Alfred grasps a monitoring wire and yanks it off, making quick work of the rest as well. Both Bruce’s and Jim’s movements to interfere were batted away impatiently. “And one I mean to find out. 'Cause longer that bloody lunatic's out on the loose... the harder it's gonna be to find him.”

“G-Get back in bed, Alfred.” Bruce’s voice was markedly worried. 

“Just pass me my robe.”

“Get back in bed! That's an order” And there was his little Bonded’s Will. Not even Alfred could deny Bruce when he put that kind of emphasis on his wishes. Jim almost was tempted to lie down as well. Almost.

Now, if his phone would just _stop ringing_! Jim looked down to the caller ID and cursed. He stuffed his phone back into his pocket and helped Alfred to lie back in bed. As he helped pull the covers back over the butler, Alfred asked pointedly, “That work?” 

“Don’t worry about it. It is just Captain Essen. But she knows I’m here with you, so…”

“It must be an emergency then, Master James. Just-just go.”

“No, I want to stay.”

“I really appreciate you sitting with Master Bruce, but as you can see, I'm completely fine. Go.”

“I was sitting with you, too, Alfred.” Jim pointed out. Alfred smiled thankfully and Jim couldn’t help but to return the gesture, despite the stubbornness of the butler causing him no little amount of worry. Alfred, was right, anyway. Captain Essen was one of the few people who knew about Jim’s real relationship with all at Wayne Manor. He had had to tell the woman when she had tried to help him find a new job while Bruce had been heading to Switzerland. The Captain had been an avid secret support ever since, to which Jim could never repay her for. So, for her to be calling when he was in hospital visiting Alfred… “All right. I'll just check what she needs real quick. I’ll be back as soon as I wrap whatever it is up.”

“I’ll see you later then, Master James.” 

Bruce followed Jim out to the hallway and gives Jim a quick squeeze of the hand in the guise of a handshake. “Thank you for coming, Jim. I’m sorry for the troubles it probably caused you… _affected you._ ”

Knowing exactly where Bruce was going with that statement, Jim gave Bruce’s hand a similar squeeze before ruffling his Bonded’s hair with affection. “It’s alright. Bound to happen sooner or later. And I trust Harvey. Was beginning to feel a bit guilty, actually. So, it was all for the best.”

Bruce nodded gratefully and smiled up at Jim. With one more look at Jim, he headed back to Alfred’s room, fixing his hair as he went. 

Now to see what Captain Essen had been blowing up his phone about. Hopefully it would be a quick issue to deal with…

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


  
It wasn’t. Jim slammed into the Captain’s office and threw the Gotham Gazette down onto her desk, _Narco Detective Vindicated. Murder Charges Dropped_ the headline of the day. 

“This can't be true.”

But it was. Flass had been released due to a key witness swearing to Flass’ innocence. A witness supplied by Commissioner Loeb. Commissioner Loeb who was backing Flass as president of the policemen's union in the upcoming election. It was too much. Jim couldn’t let that stand. He thought briefly and regretfully of Alfred and Bruce at the hospital, but pushed it aside for now. He would just have a quick chat with the Commissioner and convince him to rescind the ruling for Flass. Somehow.

Jim was still trying to figure out how to fix this mess after his disheartening meeting with the Commissioner. _Harvey_ had been the witness. And just that morning, Jim had been _sure_ he could trust his partner. He had told Bruce as much. 

Jim found his partner back at the precinct, sorting through some paperwork. As Jim approached, Harvey glanced up and his face formed a sympathetic expression. “Hey, there you are. How is your man? Any lingering… Neuro affects?” Seeing Jim’s humorless face, Harvey took on a defensive stance. “What's up?”

“Why the hell would you lie to exonerate Flass? Don't deny it. I saw the tape.”

“I'm not denying anything. I did what I had to do. If I didn't do what Loeb told me to do, I would've lost my job. Probably gone to prison. What would happen to Scottie then?”

“What else does he have on you?” Jim asked disbelievingly. When his partner didn’t answer, Jim urged more pointedly. “Harvey.”

“Do you honestly think you're the only one who had the orders to take a punk down to the end of a pier and put a bullet in his head? Huh? The difference is my Cobblepot didn't come back.”

Silenced with surprise only momentarily, Jim leaned in closer to his partner and asked softly, “Who'd you kill?”

“Some scumbag mobster. Caught him coming out of a club one night. My sergeant put a gun in my hand, held another to my head, and said, ‘Make a choice.’ I decided to keep breathing.” Harvey sounded more shaken by this confession than by any of the many gruesome cases they had investigated together. He must have been holding it in for a long while. 

Jim felt for his partner, but Harvey wasn’t making it easier on them. “Damn it, Harvey.”

“So what?” Harvey abruptly went back on the defensive. “What are you gonna do? Arrest me? Go ahead. Arrest me. But don't stop there. Half the cops in the GCPD have a Cobblepot, and Loeb has the goods on all of them. That is what Loeb does.”

“Well, it ends now.”

“Jim, hey. Going after Flass was bad enough. Going after Loeb is suicide, plain and simple.”

“So what? Am I supposed to stay quiet? Fall in line like the rest of you?”

“That would be a good idea.” Harvey entreated. “Especially with your own secret at home.”

“Day I do that is the day I quit being a cop,” Jim bit out. “Alfred understands why I do my job.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

“Well, Loeb's been collecting dirt on cops for years and using it to control the department.”

“And he’s got leverage on businessmen, politicians,” Harvey added. “That’s a huge source of power he has.”

“If we find his cache of evidence and destroy it, we won’t have to worry about Loeb anymore.”

“Oh, like Loeb would keep it anywhere obvious.” 

Jim admitted Harvey had a point there. What could they do? “I don’t want this to take too much time. Not with Alfred in the hospital. Isn't there someone Loeb might have trusted? Ex-friends? An estranged wife?”

“Well, he was Bonded. She died 20 years ago. Fell down the stairs. There were suspicions about her death, but we all know Bonded people don’t kill one another.” Harvey looked at Jim with sudden disapproval. “Speaking of, I can’t believe you lied to be about Alfred. Why would you do that?”

Caught out with no excuse, Jim floundered a little. “Harvey… I didn’t lie to you. But… I may have not told you the whole truth.”

“Fuck that, Jim. You knew from the get-go about Scottie. Why couldn’t you show me the same trust? We are supposed to be partners. We shouldn’t keep things like that from-” Harvey’s diatribe suddenly cut out and the man took on a thoughtful look. At Jim's questioning glance, Harvey continued, “Back before Loeb was commissioner, when he was a lowly homicide dick, Griggs was his partner. I would bet dollars to donuts that he would know how to stick it to Loeb.”

“Yeah?” Jim could barely hide the relief at Harvey getting back on the case.

“Yeah. But, the guy would turn on anyone to save his own skin. You just got to scare him enough.”

“How do we do that?”

After a quick but efficient drive with Griggs, Harvey was able to get out of the man that the only one who would know about Loeb’s secret stash was Don Falcone himself. According to Griggs, at least. Jim knew of one person who quite possibly would know how to get the information he needed. 

Jim sighed. He had wanted to keep away from Cobblepot since their last encounter had ended with a man’s family being threatened. Come to think about it, that was the last time Jim went toe-to-toe with Flass... Jim hoped there wasn’t a pattern emerging.

When Jim and Harvey made it to ‘Oswald’s,’ Fish Mooney’s old club under new management, Jim found himself agreeing to give Cobblepot five minutes alone with Loeb’s files, when they found them. Harvey was against the idea entirely, but there was no helping it. The day had already gone on long enough. Jim wanted to wrap this up and get back to his family. 

That is how Jim ended up sitting in the car with Harvey and Cobblepot, looking at the unassuming farmhouse that Loeb’s Bonded had died in. Harvey was very skeptical, but Cobblepot was sure this was the place.

And the man turned out to be right on the money. Not only had the house held a murderous elderly couple protecting it, but also Loeb’s most hidden secret; his daughter. Miriam Loeb was a very unwell woman. Jim was a little sick when he found out the reason why. Harvey and Jim were both having a seemingly unhelpful conversation with Miriam Loeb when it all came out. It turned out that the late Mrs. Loeb was not Commissioner Loeb’s Bonded. Miriam was. Jim knew platonic Bonds were not as rare as popular belief, and even familial ones had been recorded in the past. They weren’t exactly common, but they _did_ happen. So, while that tidbit of information was a little disturbing, it wasn’t unprecedented. What truly sickened Jim was the mental state Miriam Loeb was in. She had obviously been locked up for quite a while. By her Bonded. Left alone to her own devices. Without her other half.

Bonds don’t work well without continuous and frequent physical connection. Miriam Loeb had the worst case of Bond withdrawal that Jim had ever seen. How a man could do that to not only his own daughter, but to also to his Bonded... Even Harvey was looking a bit green at the gills. 

In the end, Jim and Harvey were unable to find any leads to Loeb’s hidden cache of information. However, they had gotten the next best thing in finding out about Miriam Loeb.

Harvey had tried to convince Jim to let him come with, but Jim felt that this was something he had to do for himself. Besides, this was a very delicate situation and Jim felt that Harvey may lack a certain… finesse needed. That, and Jim felt a twinge of sympathy for the Commissioner. His Bonded had murdered his wife and Loeb was left to cover up the entire situation. Jim had no idea how having a mentally unstable Bonded would affect one’s psyche, let alone one’s morals and general outlook on life. Jim wanted to give Loeb a bit more privacy in their confrontation than having two detectives come out with knowledge of his long-kept secret. Not that Jim would go easy on the man. 

“I see you still haven't learned the art of knocking, Detective Gordon.” Commissioner Loeb’s confidence collapsed as soon as Jim tossed one of Miriam Loeb’s bone necklaces to the man. Picking up the creation with shaking hands, the Commissioner gathered himself nobly before speaking. “Miriam is sick. She didn't mean to hurt her mother. She just has these urges. Not even I could influence her mind. She… _she was the one influencing_ me _in the end_. I had to distance...” That last bit wasn’t more than a whisper. Loeb looked up at Jim with steely resolve. “If you want to expose what she did, go ahead. You think I can't weather the scandal?”

Pushing down his instinctive sympathy, Jim kept his resolve. After all, this was the man who was threatening all the hard work Jim had done to clean out the GCPD so far. “I'm sure you could. But that's not why you kept her locked away for 20 years.”

“Do enlighten me.”

“I know you love her. I think you've done everything you can to keep her out of Arkham. And you'll keep doing it.”

“You're willing to hold my daughter hostage to achieve your ends? You're much colder than I thought.”

It was a very interesting to Jim that Loeb chose the father/daughter relationship to focus on, and not the Bond they shared. Jim couldn’t begin to guess at the implications, so he didn’t bother. He kept up his stony façade as he replied. “So it seems.”

“I'll hand in my resignation today. Just keep Miriam out of it.”

“No, you're not resigning. You step down, I'll have someone else to deal with. And chances are he'll be Falcone's lapdog, same as you. With you I have leverage.”

“So what do you want?” 

So Jim told him. He was able to convince Loeb to get Flass retried, all evidence against Harvey given up, and for Jim to be instated as the president of the policemen’s union. A good day’s work, if he did say so himself. Now, he could finally get back to his family.

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


  



	10. 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Convalescence, Work, Investigations._

**Chapter 10**  


_He was standing in darkness. Wings fluttered above him, chittering beings unseen in the deep recesses._

_However, he knew he wasn’t alone. He could_ feel _it. There was a comforting presence with him always, part and apart from him._

_It was that presence that gave him enough strength to move further into the darkness._

_He wasn’t alone._

_He wasn’t alone._

_As he inched forward into the blinding darkness, his arms outstretched to find the edge of the room, his foot came into contact with something warm and giving._

_He steadied his wavering stance before taking a small step back. He bent down and started to do a blind inspection of the object with his hands. As he moved up what was becoming increasingly clear was a_ body _, his breath came in faster and more ragged, his heart picking up alongside it. He would know that bespoke suit anywhere…_

_As his hands ran into warm, sticky liquid, his movements became more and more jerky. He frantically moved onto the familiar contours of the face of the man lying before him. There was no movement from the body. There was no breath coming from the mouth. As he placed his head onto the chest of the body, in last ditch hopes of a heartbeat, he came to a startling realization._

_There was no noise audible besides the chittering and rustling above. Not from the still body before him. Not from his own ragged breathing, his own pounding heart. His distraught hiccups made no sound. Not even the comforting presence helped. It, too, was only silent feelings after all. He tried to call out to the man bleeding before him, but no noise came out._

_He screamed silently._

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


  
When Alfred was finally released from Gotham General, it was a unanimous decision that the man would be staying in Jim’s room. Unanimous, meaning Bruce and his Bonded cheerfully ignored all of Alfred’s arguments to the contrary and went on with their planning. They had both seen the room that Alfred had been using. It was a travesty that one of their precious people was… settling, or even _choosing_ to stay in a small closet of a room with little to no personal touches to it. Bruce wouldn’t have it, and Jim agreed with him.

So, Alfred would be staying in Jim’s room while he was convalescing. His personal belongings were still in there, so it was a convenient enough that Alfred only complained a little. In the mean-time, Bruce would see about setting the guest room in Jim’s and his hall was transformed into a more fitting place for Alfred to sleep. 

Jim had already gotten a few Polaroids of the three of them printed for photos to be placed around Alfred’s room. That, and Jim took it upon himself to purchase a few more homely items, squishy pillows, an old throw blanket, and even went so far as to purchase some… casual clothing for Alfred. Bruce couldn’t wait to see Alfred’s reaction to see the common clothing mixed in with his three piece suits. 

As for Bruce, he put himself in charge of purchasing a few paintings for the blank walls he was sure (hoped) Alfred would appreciate. This included a very interesting and minimalist antique wall clock for Alfred’s obsessive timekeeping, comfortable furniture, and other conveniences that Alfred had been systematically denying himself. 

In the meantime, Alfred was still unwell and both Jim and Bruce felt better with having him within arm’s reach until he was fully recovered. That, and they all were still a little paranoid about the near miss their family just dodged. Alfred was aware of it as well, as evidenced by his effusive, but ultimately compromising, complaints. They all felt the need to be a within eyesight of eachother.

That didn’t stop his butler from grumbling nearly constantly about everything. Bruce was reading at his bedside as Jim was down in the kitchen preparing a light lunch for them.

“…just hope that boy doesn’t mess with my organization. I spent near on fifteen years working to get that just right. Not to mention what Master James could possibly be making…” Here, Alfred turned a wide-eyed stare towards Bruce. “Your boy _does_ know how to cook, ya think? Has he ever used a toaster oven before….? Do you think he’ll know not to make anything that will spill all over his duvet?! …That’s it! I’ll just make my way down, and we won’t have to worry about it!”

“The only one worrying about anything is you, Alfred.” Jim’s voice came from the doorway. He was carrying Alfred’s usual serving tray with the covers over the food. Jim hurried gracefully over and placed the tray on the serving table he had brought up just for that purpose. As Jim was placing the tray down, Bruce was forcefully, but gently, pushing Alfred back down to the propping pillows on Jim’s bed. 

“Alfred, _stop fussing_!” Bruce scolded. “Jim served you dinner last night, and your worries were proven wrong. Jim made breakfast this morning, and your griping was proven mistaken. I believe it is safe to assume that Jim will continue his fine culinary examples and do just fine with this lunch. Honestly…!”

Alfred slumped back to the pillows with little grace, grumbling about “cheeky boys,” and “…can’t a man state his valid concerns?” and “they were certainly _edible_ , but _fine culinary example…?_ ”

Bruce’s maligned Bonded just snorted good-humoredly and whisked the covers from the tray with a showman’s skill. “Well, Alfred? How does this look? Does it meet your exacting standards?”

On the tray were three places of single serving chicken pies with sides of broccoli. Bruce could tell they were not exactly culinary masterpieces, but he knew Alfred would have to concede to how delicious the food smelled. Jim had even brought up the cloth napkins and silver serving ware in concession to Alfred’s complaints about “eating like barbarians” at breakfast. Jim had really stepped up in taking over Alfred’s cooking duties. 

As Alfred sniffed proudly, he placed the plate placed on his lap desk. Bruce walked up to his Bonded and hugged him gratefully. “Thank you, Jim.”

Jim wrapped his arms tightly around Bruce in reply and ducked his head slightly to whisper into Bruce’s hairs. “Sure thing, doll. Someone has to keep this grump in good health…”

A loud snort came from the bed in reply. 

Bruce and Jim parted with big grins on their face, and went to join Alfred in eating Jim’s simple, but really tasty, lunch. Even Alfred could not deny it.

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


  
As the weekend came to a close, Bruce started to notice how uneasy Jim was becoming. Jim had been offered some more time off by Captain Essen, Bruce knew. Jim had taken the time gratefully, even if it was just a few extra days. However, Bruce could feel that Jim was really nervous, and it did not take a genius to figure out the reasons. Jim had to go back to work tomorrow and he was worried about leaving Bruce and Alfred alone.

“We’ll be fine. You showed me how to make a few easy meals, and I will have Alfred here to direct me on how to do everything to his exacting standards. We will be fine without you while you are at work.”

Smiling wryly, his Bonded turned to Bruce and pulled his head to Jim’s chest. It was Jim’s standard show of affection, but Bruce felt he would never get over the flush of warmth the gesture brought him. 

“In any case, you are now the President of the Police’s Union. You have to show your face at the precinct eventually.”

“Yeah, yeah. I guess I have to go back to being the hard-nosed detective. It’s just…” Jim cut off uncharacteristically. Bruce felt Jim’s forehead rest upon the side of his head. “Harvey.”

Ah. Jim had told Bruce that Detective Bullock had figured out the bare essentials of Jim’s secret. The part where Jim was Bonded. However, Detective Bullock was under the impression that _Alfred_ was Jim’s Bonded. Jim had mentioned that his partner would not let things lie the way they were. The man would hound Jim until Jim would either be forced to tell Detective Bullock to back out of private matters, which would assuredly ruin their working relationship, not to mention their private one… Or, Jim would have to finally tell the truth to his partner. 

Bruce was actually in agreement with Jim that Detective Bullock had earned that right, recently. If what Jim says is true, they all owe Detective Bullock for helping Jim out on a sensitive work issue that Jim’s partner did not necessarily agree with. Did not agree with, but still provided much needed assistance for his Bonded. So, Bruce was no longer hesitant about Jim’s insistence that Detective Bullock be told about their Bond. They just had to convince Alfred, first. 

“Absolutely not.” Alfred’s gruff voice broke into Jim’s explanation later that evening of his intention to tell his partner about Bruce.

“Alfred, he’s my friend. Harvey has helped me out more in the GCPD more than anyone, even Captain Essen. I would be… in serious trouble a dozen times over without his help.”

“Well, he’s your partner, isn’t he? That’s just his job. He isn’t exactly the paragon of virtue, _in or out_ of his detective work.” Alfred’s blue eyes took on a cold expression as he added, “And being a friend is not exactly a guarantee that a person will not betray you.”

Bruce felt Jim suddenly perk up at that, and he sat back in fascination to observe the exchange. 

“Yes, would you know that first-hand, _Alfie?_ ”

Scowling, Alfred barked back, “This is not about anybody but Harvey Bullock! We’ve already discussed Reggie’s absence. He had to leave. He left the night I was attacked by a robber. He didn’t want to remain a burden on us!”

“Alfred! Why won’t you let me help?! I can put a BOLO out for him and we’ll have him in custody in no time flat. He _stabbed_ you, Alfred! I- _We_ were very worried about you! How do you think we felt when Bruce found you in the Living Room? I just want to help…!”

Alfred’s stern expression broke at Jim’s exasperated rant trailing into despondency. The butler sighed and looked to Bruce, before quickly looking back down to his clenched fists. “He’ll likely be in the city. If I know Reggie, he's probably drunk himself half to death by now and is moving swiftly on to the harder stuff. I planned on finding him when I got a bit better. He’s probably holed up in a shooting gallery, - totally off his maracas.”

“Alfred, you don’t have to do this alone. We are both here for you. It’s not just Jim that want’s to help. What Reggie did…” Bruce could not keep the tremble out of his voice. He cursed himself internally. He had been holding up admirably in the face of Alfred’s injury, if he did say so himself. 

Bruce was able to keep his difficulties in processing the situation from both Alfred and Jim, not letting either of them know about the anxieties he found himself under whenever he remembered that night. He had been able to play off the nightmares about it from Jim by… _convincing_ Jim that they were expected, that Bruce was dealing with them just fine. Bruce pulled his face back into a stern visage, and glared at Alfred’s concerned face. “Reggie was your friend, Alfred. And he betrayed us all. He came into our house, where we all thought was a safe place! He came in, used our generosity against us, your nostalgia against you, and stole from us! It’s all my _fault…!_ ”

Well, so much for keeping a strong façade, Bruce thought as a few tears escaped down his cheek. 

“No, Master Bruce. All you did was convince me to let an old friend stay over for a couple of nights. You saved me, when you found me.” Alfred gripped Bruce’s clenched fists and squeezed. Then his butler sighed. “He'll only be here for a few days, anyway. Enough time to get his fix, then he'll be off.”

“Well, then I better get that BOLO out, then, hadn’t I?” Jim asked. 

“Don’t!” Alfred’s voice became uncharacteristically pleading. “He was my friend! He lost his Bonded recently, he _must_ have a… a _good bloody reason_ for doing this! I can’t believe ol’ Reg from before would do this for any trifling reason. I wanted to… hear his reasoning from him myself! Please, Jim…”

Jim groaned and ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “Alright. _Alright_ , Alfred! I’ll look for him on the down low. But! If I find him, _I’ll_ ask him myself for his reasons. If he’s as good a friend as you say, he’ll tell your _distraught lover_ his reasons for hurting you. NO!” Jim barked over Alfred’s protests. “You are still healing, Alfred! And… I _will_ bring the man in if I catch him doing any other illegal activities. Being Widowed only goes so far as an excuse, Alfred. If he’s really that bad off… he should be getting proper care. And possibly therapy, anyway.”

“Thank you, Master James.” Heaving out a sigh of his own, Alfred sat back with an aborted sound of pain.

Bruce took that opportunity to break into the tense confrontation. “Are you hurting?”

Gasping a little, Alfred placed his hand gingerly under his bed shirt. When he pulled his hand out, it was clean though. “Just got a bit excited for a minute there. Don’t worry, Master Bruce, I’ve not sprung any more leaks.”

Not appreciating Alfred’s attempt at levity, Bruce directed Jim to get the first aid kit from the attached bathroom before turning back to his butler. “We’ll just see about that, Alfred. I want to look it over myself. Make some use of the instructions the nursing staff gave me when you were discharged. Your bandages could probably use a good change, anyway.”

Jim came back with the first aid kit and any objections Alfred may have given died in the face of blue and hazel eyes looking at him worriedly from both of his impudent boys. Sighing, Alfred decided to give in with as much grace as he could in this situation. “Yes, alright! Get on with it then.”

Thus, Bruce and Jim found themselves removing Alfred’s bed shirt before gently removing the bandages around Alfred’s chest. As the wrappings unfolded, Bruce’s eyes instantly spotted the gray ink that was slowly being revealed on Alfred’s left rib cage. Blushing furiously, Bruce inanely tried to push the bandages back up onto Alfred’s chest. 

Both Alfred and Jim looked curiously at the sudden movement. Seeing where Bruce had been, Alfred instantly understood what had caused the teen to become so flustered. “Oh. I almost forgot…” Alfred looked to Jim briefly, before looking back to Bruce. “I don’t mind, Master Bruce. You both know I am still Waiting. You both know my words are Obscure. And I am certainly not worried about either of you trying to start a False Conversation with me…”

Bruce was almost floored about the trust Alfred was showing him and Jim. Bruce _knew_ Alfred considered them both part of his family… though the butler hadn’t said as much in so many words. Bruce could just tell Alfred felt the same way for them as they did for him. So, Alfred’s offer shouldn’t have been such a surprise. However, Alfred _was_ an extremely private person. Through their Bond, Bruce could feel that Jim was equally as touched as Bruce was at Alfred’s trust. 

They were all quiet as Bruce unrolled the bandages and uncovered Alfred’s soulmate’s first words to him. The light gray script was simple and concise. Alfred had been right. The only words more Obscure would have been “Hi,” or some other greeting. Still… The phrase 'thank you' had probably led to many a frustration for Alfred.

“Huh.” Jim’s exhalation brought them all back to attention. “You said you were twenty-one when your Words came in, Alfred? And they say ‘thank you’ when they meet you…” Jim suddenly started laughing.

“Well, I’m glad someone finds my situation humorous!” Alfred grumped.

“No, no. I just…” Jim smiled widely as he brought his laughter back under control. “It’s just… everyone has been calling you my Sugar Daddy and your Bonded will be almost exactly my age! Looks like the title will stick even after you have your own Conversation!”

Bruce and Alfred looked at one another wide-eyed at this observation before they two broke out into laughter. Jim joined in again and they all had a few minutes of humor to enjoy. 

“You cheeky…! That’s if I’m not just a Spoiled Ballot.” Alfred pointed out, his humor dying down a little. “See, I’m an old man. Who’s to say I’ll ever have that Conversation?”

“You will!” Bruce exclaimed. He blushed at the raised eyebrows Alfred sent his way, but he continued on stubbornly. “You will meet your soulmate, Alfred. You wouldn’t have been given Words, even at twenty-one, if your Bonded would care about that. These things work out in the end. What I mean to say is… Look at Jim and I. Our age disparity is not much more than yours and your soulmate’s.” 

Jim sent a fond smile at Bruce’s flushed face, making his face heat up even more, before turning to Alfred’s surprised visage. “Bruce is right. I bet the moment you meet your Bonded, they will only care about the gray ink filling in. That, and you are still a fine specimen of a man. Your Bonded will see what we see in you, and will fall instantly.”

“Yes.” Bruce agreed with his Bonded wholeheartedly. 

Alfred flushed at their attention before shaking the drooping bandages at the two young men sitting at his bedside. “Yes, well. In the meantime, weren’t you helping me with something…?”

Bruce and his Bonded got back to work good-naturedly and their little family enjoyed a night of contentment.

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


  
That contentment only lasted until the next afternoon. Jim had gone back to work, leaving Bruce with the obligation of looking after their recalcitrant butler. 

Bruce was in the middle of preparing, an admittedly lopsided, sandwich for Alfred and his lunch, when Jim called. 

“Hey, Bruce. How is Alfred doing?”

Just from that title and Jim’s tone of voice, Bruce knew Jim was in a public place. “You know. As whiny as ever. I am attempting lunch right now. I can almost _feel_ Alfred’s fretting from down here.”

“Sounds like him.” Jim laughed over the line. “But, hey, I’ll be a little late tonight. It seems being the President of the Police’s Union is more than just a title.”

All of Bruce’s concentration was broken at that. He finished transferring the sandwich to the serving tray before he spoke. “But, Jim… What about Reggie?”

“I will get to him, I promise. I just… Alfred said he would be in town for a few days. I’ll just finish this case I’m on and I’ll put all my effort into finding Reggie.” Jim’s voice suddenly turned a little shy. “A fellow police officer asked me to look into this case. I don’t want to let him down…”

Grudgingly, Bruce agreed with Jim’s choice. Besides, if Jim was busy at the moment, that didn’t mean that _Bruce_ had to let the matter drop. Alfred said Reggie would be staying at a shooting gallery… It couldn’t’ be that hard to find. Bruce would just do a little investigation himself and tell Jim his findings. 

“Alright, Jim. Do what you must. I know you have more responsibilities due to your new position.”

After Bruce finishes listening to Jim’s thanks, Bruce hangs up. He has to plan his next steps just right. Alfred would eat his lunch, grumbling the whole time, before falling to sleep for at least three hours. That was plenty of time for Bruce to call a cab, get to the city, have a look around, and be back without anyone being the wiser. 

It was never that simple.

As Bruce finished questioning the third gun range in Gotham City, he was about to give up. Looking at his watch, he saw he only had about an hour and a half. One more thing to try, then. He took a turn down the next alleyway and stopped the first teen he found to ask about a certain young burglar.

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


  
“Could've smashed your head with a brick, you know?”

The familiar voice made him smile as he turned towards the girl descending from a fire escape. 

“Why would you do that? Why'd you even say that?”

“Just thought you should know. What's up? Why're you looking for me?”

The smile at seeing his friend, his _only_ friend, collapsed on his face. Selina had visited him in Gotham General when Alfred had been unconscious. She had offered to help then, and now he was bringing her in on what could be another dangerous endeavor. But, she _had_ offered… “Reggie Payne, the man who stabbed Alfred, he's in Gotham.”

“And you need my help to find him.” Bruce could only nod. “Okay.”

“Alfred said he'd be at a gun range for a few days, but I checked every one in the city. Nothing.”

“Who stays at a gun range for a few days? Doesn't make any sense.”

“That's what he said. Said Reggie'd be at a shooting gallery.”

Here, Selina smiled that smug but indulgent smile at Bruce that left him feeling flustered and embarrassed. “That's not the same as a gun range, silly. You really need to get out more.”

Bruce hated admitting ignorance at all, but he also hated remaining ignorant if he could change it. “Well, what is it, then?”

“It’s a place where the druggies go to ‘shoot up.’” Selina explained condescendingly. “We can put some feelers out and go to find him together.”

Bruce hesitated for a split second, torn between excitement of sleuthing with Selina or heading back to Alfred. Alfred won. “I can’t. I’ve already left Alfred long enough… He’ll be waking up anytime now and I want to be there for him.”

“So, what? I don’t know what this jerk looks like.”

“He’s about Alfred’s age with dark brown hair and a round face. He also speaks with a distinct Scottish accent. He might be new to town, and he might have gotten some money recently, so he’ll have… a new dose, or whatever it is called.”

Selina snorted at Bruce’s description. “Alright, that should be easy enough. What do you want me to do when I find him?”

Bruce was torn again. He knew that Jim wanted to investigate the issue for himself, but Bruce thought that his busy Bonded could use all the help he could get. Plus, it would be good to have eyes on Reggie in case he does attempt to leave town like Alfred said. “Do you remember our phone number? Call me when you find him. I… Jim will do the rest.”

“Oho, I was wondering why the detective wasn’t out here looking for his lover’s attacker himself. So, what, is he too busy or something with that new presidency thing?”

“Yes,” Bruce said simply. “Thank you, Selina. I’ve got to get back to Alfred, but please call as soon as you find Reggie.”

They parted ways and Bruce made his way back to the Manor. 

Alfred was right where he had left him. Bruce smiled fondly at the man and pulled the covers back over Alfred’s shoulders. He picked up the textbook he had been studying and only allowed himself to stare at Alfred for minute before delving back into his studies.

Enmeshed in the theory behind statistical mathematics, Bruce was startled when his phone rang. There were only two people who would be calling, and he would welcome either. Glancing at Alfred’s sudden alert visage, Bruce smiled before looking at the caller ID. Smiling at Alfred, Bruce put the phone on speaker as he answered. “Jim.”

“Bruce! Where are you? Are you with Alfred?” Jim’s frantic voice startled both of them. Looking at Alfred’s equally concerned face, Bruce could only answer in the affirmative.

“The phone is on speaker, Master James,” Alfred added. 

“Good, good…” Jim trailed off with a sigh. “Goddammit!”

Now Bruce was really worried. Jim didn’t make it a habit of swearing, especially at home. Something must be really off. “What is it, Jim? What happened?”

“Listen. I messed up. I need you guys to… Fu--! I don’t even know, right now.” Jim cut off with a groan. He audibly gathered himself before continuing. “Bruce, remember when I called earlier and I said a fellow officer asked for my help? That has turned into more than a case gone cold. It turns out there is a serial killer out there that targets women. All past investigations on this man have stopped in its tracks for a very serious reason. This ‘Ogre,’ as they call him, targets the loved ones of anyone who investigates him. Anyone who gets close.”

“And it is an open secret to all at the GCPD that you are currently intimately involved with me,” Alfred concludes.

“Yes. I’m so sorry, guys. Harvey and I have already been very open and public with our investigation. It’s out there that we started, so we can’t stop now… besides, I can’t let this guy go. What he did to those women…” Jim trailed off ominously. 

“Harvey is calling Scottie right now. Bruce, I need you guys to find a safe place. Possibly with Scottie. I just- I just don’t know where you can go! The Ogre has been able to track down loved ones from across state lines. And, Alfred. You aren’t well enough to travel far distances.”

“Bullocks!” Alfred also seemed to feel the conundrum they were in. “Well, this is a right mess, Master James. What the BLOODY HELL were you thinking?!”

“Alfred! Jim was just doing his job. All we can do now is to find a safe place to go.” Bruce tried to inject some calm into the situation. It was a little hard, with this ‘Ogre’ looming over them. “We know the Manor isn’t exactly the safest place anymore. Too big and isolated. Where else could we go?”

The silence that followed that question was not a comfort to anyone. That was, until Jim gasped out, “Barbara!”

“What?” Both Bruce and Alfred asked at this seeming non-sequitur. 

“Barbara is back in town. I know she would take you in for a few nights. Her penthouse is in the middle of the city, it has a guard stationed at the entrance at all hours of the day, and you would all be surrounded by witnesses. It could really work out.”

“But, will she take us in? I thought she left because the danger of your last investigation really spooked her.” 

“Dammit. You’re right. But, what other choice is there? I have to ask, at least.” Jim’s voice was suddenly infused with exhaustion. “It’s either that, or the GCPD. You could stay in one of the rooms we have, but… I don’t want either of you to be put on spectacle like that. And, Alfie is still healing…”

Both Alfred and Bruce looked to one another and came to a silent agreement. “Alright, Master James. We will try it your way. If Miss Kean is willing, we will stay with her for a short while.”

“Thank you. Thank you both. I’m going to call her now and see what she says. In the meantime, please pack a bag for both you and Alfred, Bruce. No matter what I can negotiate, you’ll be leaving the Manor for the night.”

They hung up and Alfred and Bruce sat in silence for a moment, just staring at one another.

“Nothing for it, Master Bruce. Let’s get going.” 

Bruce really appreciated Alfred’s no-nonsense manner at times like these. Bruce nodded decisively and went about doing just that. He packed a suitcase for both of them, and, on second thought, one for Jim as well. When he finished and had place the luggage by the front entrance, Bruce went back to Jim’s bedroom to help Alfred finish dressing.

“Now, Master Bruce, there is one more thing I need you to get.”

When that was finished, all they could do was wait for Jim’s phone call to tell them their next move. 

They were both so keyed up that they jumped when Bruce’s phone rang. Bruce fumbled clumsily for a second before he pulled the phone to his ear to answer. “Jim?”

“Uh, no. It’s definitely not Jim.” Selina’s dry answer came through the speaker. 

Bruce had completely forgot about Selina in all the excitement of the last hour. He glanced guiltily at Alfred’s curious and intense gaze before answering back. “Sorry, something has come up. Did you find him?”

“Yep. He’s at one of the skeevier ranges. Smelly place, and that’s saying something coming from me.” Selina then seemed to compute Bruce’s first response. “Something came up? What could be more important than finding the man who stabbed your precious butler?”

So, Bruce explained the situation to the girl. He didn’t see any reason to lie, not even with Alfred’s increasing exasperated looks sent his way.

“Dang, boy. You sure live an interesting life. So, what do you wanna do about Reggie?”

Frustrated, the only answer Bruce could give was, “We’ll just have to let him go for now. I can’t leave Alfred. And, Jim has to focus on catching this ‘Ogre.’”

“Well, I could talk to Reggie.”

“No, no, it’s too dangerous…”

A loud snort interrupted Bruce’s objections. “ _Please_ , pretty boy. It’s no big. Besides the favor you would owe me, that is. I’ll just ask him a few questions and you won’t have to worry that big brain of yours.”

“Well, if you’re sure…” Bruce then gave Selina a list of questions he needed answers to. “I might be at Miss Kean’s place after you are done. I’m waiting for Jim to call to tell us where we need to go.”

When he hung up, Bruce braced himself before turned towards his unimpressed butler. However, he was saved from explaining himself at that moment when the phone in his hand started ringing. This time Bruce looked at the caller ID before answering and putting it on speaker. 

“Okay guys. Barbara agreed to let you and Scottie stay at her penthouse until the investigation is over. I’m on my way over now to pick you up.” 

They stayed on the phone together until Jim pulled up, all too paranoid and keyed up to drop the connection. When Bruce opened the front door for Jim, he was immediately enveloped in a warm and tight embrace. Bruce wrapped his own arms around Jim just as tightly. They released, and Jim moved towards Alfred. Bruce could tell the butler had a biting comment on his tongue, but it died out when Jim gently wrapped his arms around Alfred. “I’m sorry, Alfred. It’s you that is in the most danger here.”

Clearing his throat, Alfred returned the embrace perfunctorily, before pushing Jim away and saying gruffly, “We best be getting off. No time like the present to flee from danger.”

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visit my [ tumblr ](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/blockovich) for background info.  
> Standard disclaimers apply. This work is unbeta'd.


	11. 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth comes out.

**Chapter 11**  
  
After they had settled everyone at Barbara’s, admittedly less spacious with everybody filling it up, penthouse, Jim was very much feeling the awkwardness of the situation. 

When Jim had called Barbara, he had been worried that Barbara would hold his forgetfulness as Jim being dismissive when he had never contacted her after she came back to town. He shouldn’t have been surprised when she had instantly offered to host his Bonded and Alfred, along with Scottie if Harvey was amenable to it. Jim _knew_ Barbara was a kind and giving person. He should have known that she would never turn away friends in need. Jim could probably admit, to himself, that Gotham didn’t exactly breed generosity in others or trust in your fellow citizen. It had been unfair for Jim to doubt Barbara like that…

When Jim had called Harvey to inform him of the option Barbara’s place gave them as a safe house, Harvey had also beem severely grateful. With his and Scottie’s Bond being as new as it was, it would have been difficult on both of them if Scottie had to go to a safe place out of Gotham. So it was that they were cramming six people into Barbara’s single bedroom penthouse. Although, it would not be that crowded seeing as Harvey and Jim were going to be gone the majority of the time on their investigation of the Ogre.

As for Barbara, she had been more than a gracious host. She had taken it upon herself to order five cots for her guest’s use, including Jim and Harvey in the count. Her main living area had been cleared, her furniture moved out of the room, the cots arranged around the fire. Each cot had a small set of drawers at its end for her guests to put their belongings. Barbara had then put up a few curtain room dividers for her guest’s privacy and so outsiders could not see in through her picture windows. The final touch was dinner being ready and set for six on her dining table when they had all come piling into her penthouse. Barbara had really thought of everything, it seemed.

Jim couldn’t help but conclude from all of this preparation, along with her fervent greeting as they had arrived en masse, Barbara must have been extremely lonely. Jim tried not to let the guilt on this matter drown him, so he focused on showing Barbara how grateful, _and impressed_ , he was at all her efforts. Alfred and Bruce took their cues from Jim, having also noted the extremely efficient and generous preparations Barbara had made for her impromptu guests. Alfred shook Barbara’s hand warmly in thanks, and Bruce had willingly accepted Barbara’s hug in greeting.

Scottie and Harvey had also showed their gratitude with sincere thanks and praise at Barbara’s preparedness. Harvey had been a little gruffer with his comments, but Scottie had been duly impressed and had been all compliments on the whole set-up. Barbara and her had been in rapt conversation with one another about some womanly topic since their arrival.

They were all sitting around the small dining table in Barbara’s dining room, eating dinner and discussing the next few days in light of the Ogre investigation.

“It is a common strategy for the Ogre to target close family members of those investigating him to discourage his capture. With Harvey’s new Bond with Scottie being well-known at the GCPD and with my relationship with Alfred being common knowledge, Harv and I are hoping you all staying here will keep you all safe. We’re hoping there will be safety in numbers but Harvey and I have a few suggestions that we want you all to follow to be better prepared and protected while we are gone to work.” Jim stated when he saw there was a lull in conversation. He just wanted them all to know exactly what they were getting into.

“Yeah, we gotta make sure we're all on the same page,” Harvey agreed, grasping Scottie’s hand and looking around the table. “We can’t have any of you wandering off alone, or even in pairs if you can help it. It would be best if you would all stay inside while we do our thing, but we understand that might not be possible, or really something you guys would want to do.”

“I have work with the gallery, but I could possibly take a few days off,” Barbara offered. 

“I already called in to work,” Scottie admitted. “I’m using some of my Bonding Leave Time to get off work. Harvey and I haven’t used it so I took the opportunity now.”

“The Wayne Enterprises Charity Ball is coming up soon. I suppose we will have to miss it…” Bruce added to the conversation. Jim looked to his Bonded and saw that Bruce was reluctant at this suggestion.

“Oh,” Barbara exclaimed. “I was invited to that as well! I was planning to go as a representative for the gallery...”

Her, Alfred and Bruce all looked to Jim, who exasperatedly felt put on the spot. It didn’t help that he could _feel_ Bruce’s hope on the matter. He himself did not see how missing one Charity event out of the dozens Wayne Enterprises hosts could hurt, but he kept that to himself. Besides, if all three wanted to go…

“Fine,” Jim conceded. He felt some of his frustration abate at the twin smiles Barbara and Bruce were sending him, along with Alfred’s subtle nod of approval. “As long as Scottie would like to go as well. We can’t have any of you left alone.”

Harvey and Scottie looked to one another and seemed to be communicating silently when Harvey suddenly gave a loud sigh and Scottie broke out into her own smile. Then she turned a pensive look towards Barbara’s inviting face. “The only problem is that I didn’t pack any formal wear…”

“That will be no problem at all,” Barbara stated firmly. “We can search through my wardrobe, and if nothing in there will work out, we can just have an outfit ordered.”

“Oh, but… Well. I’m sure we can find something that will work from your closet. Or, I guess Macy’s or something will have an affordable dress…” Scottie stated hesitantly. 

“Nonsense,” Bruce spoke up. “If there is nothing suitable in Miss Kean’s wardrobe, I could certainly purchase a dress for you, Miss Mullen. It would only be fair, after all. It is my family’s Charity, and it is we that are putting you in a position where you must attend.”

Barbara and Bruce smiled at one another in understanding and agreement. Barbara added, “That settles that. Scottie will be my plus one. But... I wish you would all call me Barbara. I really prefer that to ‘Miss Kean.’”

“Scottie for me as well, if you are insisting on buying me a dress and taking me out,” Scottie agreed good-humoredly. 

“Alfred will work out just fine for me,” Alfred added.

“Bruce, then.” Bruce said.

“Jim,” Jim added with a large smile.

“Detective Bullock,” Harvey tried to demand with a serious face. Scottie’s elbow to his solar plexus changed his mind, however and Harvey agreed that his first name would be just fine. “Well, now that we got all of that fluffy business out of the way, I have some questions for you four.”

The four in question all looked nervously around at one another. Barbara had a a confused expression, while Alfred and Bruce were looking expectantly at Jim. 

Jim, with a distinctive feeling of being put in the spotlight for the second time that night, placed his fork and knife down in preparation. This was the moment he had been trying to convince Alfred and Bruce to agree to for the past few months. He was going to tell Harvey, and Scottie by extension, the truth. Jim just didn’t know exactly where to begin… 

His partner saved him from making a decision when he all but demanded, “So, you said that Alfred is not your Bonded… But I know a NAB attack when I see one. When Alfred was assaulted, there was nothing else that would explain your reaction, Jim. And Barbara here… well I guess she could have been the one who was in distress at the time. If she had been with Alfred then, it may even explain the timing of your reaction. Or, in completely unlikely coincidence, she could have been in distress at the exact same time as Alfred’s assault somewhere else…” Harvey’s doubtful expression at this said all that was needed at this suggestion. “So, Jimmy, I can only conclude that you were lying about your Bond with Alfred, or…”

Once again reminded that his partner had been a detective long before Jim had even chosen his career, Jim could only concede to Harvey’s deductions. “No, neither Alfred or Barbara are Bonded to me.” Jim took a moment to look to Bruce for support, finding his Bonded nodding in grave agreement with what Jim was about to confess. Jim knew that Harvey would see the gesture and make the logical conclusions from there. Jim looked back to Harvey whose face was dawning in wide-eyed realization. “I kept my Bond secret because of its unique nature, and because of the position we both are in. I couldn’t put Bruce in that kind of danger, being Bonded to a detective who stirred the waters as much as I do. And, he has his own privacy at stake, being an under aged billionaire recently orphaned…”

“So, you got your Words when we were investigating the Waynes…” Harvey said faintly. He looked a little green at the gills. “God, Jim. You were orphaned of your Bonded parents right before you had your Initial Conversation… No wander you had a bee up your butt during that whole investigation.” Here Harvey looked like the realizations were all hitting at once. “And why you had been so set on continuing the investigation, despite all reason. I thought it was because you had a severe case of hero-complex and the hots for the butler here….” 

Alfred’s dry cough at this brought Jim a little out of the inexplicable shyness his confession had caused. He didn’t know why he felt so embarrassed. This was his partner he was talking to, and his partner’s Bonded. He shouldn’t be blushing like he was. And it wasn’t as if he was ashamed or anything about his Bond with Bruce. Jim was just… well, he was actually a little proud about his Bonded, and he had been wanting to share his good fortune with _someone_ outside their little group for the longest time. 

“Wait,” Scottie broke in. “I assume you haven’t completed the third stage.”

Both Jim and Bruce agreed with this with flushed faces.

“And we don’t plan to until Bruce is eighteen. We have gotten to the second stage though…” Jim offered.

“And your reaction to Bruce over the Bond was _that_ strong with just a second phase Bond?” Scottie’s voice took on a tone of wonder.

Jim could feel the surprised pleasure from Bruce in echo to Jim’s own realization of this fact. Bruce spoke up thoughtfully, “Yes, I suppose neither Jim nor I have given it much thought. There have been other instances I can think of that are further proof of the uncommon strength of our Bond as compared to other Bonds at a similar phase. There's no way to know for sure, however. We can’t exactly go to a professional Bond advisor or register at this time.” 

“I think we can all agree that it would be best for this information to remain between this group. I believe when you detectives go back to work, we should encourage the belief that Master James is my lover,” Jim looked at Alfred with gratitude at this rescue from the uncomfortable topic of the strength of his Bond with Bruce. 

“Like that will be any difficulty,” Harvey seemed to finally break through his concern over Jim. “Everybody already believes that Jim ‘doth protest too much’ about Alfred being his Bonded.”

“Wait, what?” Jim asked a bit nonsensically. Of course his coworkers would come to that sort of conclusion. Jim had just hoped, foolishly he now sees, that no one would care about his personal life.

“Yeah. The GCPD has already decided that you are just trying to keep your private life private, or something. Amateurs.” Harvey stated smugly.

Jim rolled his eyes at his ridiculous partner. Harvey had been under the same assumption. 

“Well, I for one am grateful for that very same amateurish conclusion,” Bruce said sincerely. 

With that statement they all finished up their meals and went about getting ready for the night. 

Harvey and Scottie had two cots nearest to the picture windows while Jim, Bruce, and Alfred had their three cots on the opposite side. The five were separated by two sets of room dividers to give to two families a modicum of privacy.

Bruce was helping Alfred settle down onto his cot, wary of his still healing wound. Jim took it upon himself to unpack their luggage into the drawers Barbara had bought for each of them. 

“You will be careful at the Charity, won’t you?” Jim broke into the comfortable silence. He didn’t want to make it seem he didn’t trust either of them to keep the other safe, he also wanted peace of mind. “And, Alfred, you won’t over exert yourself?”

“Master James, I believe I can safely say that I am not the reckless one of the three of us. I leave that to the two of you,” Alfred said dryly, giving Bruce a piercing look.

Bruce just ducked his head, finishing with his tucking Alfred in with a pat on the blanket he placed over the man. He then went about getting his own cot ready. Jim looked at Alfred in question, but Alfred just shrugged and nodded towards Bruce, as if to say ‘ask him.’

“Bruce?” Jim asked leadingly.

With a sigh of defeat, Bruce sat down on the cot before speaking in a low tone. “I had Selina look into Reggie for me. She called me right before you did earlier with the news that she had found him. She stubbornly declared she was going to question him about who hired him and why he hurt Alfred.”

“So, there’s a teenage girl out there looking to _confront a violent man_?!” Jim hissed out.

“I couldn’t dissuade her!” Bruce grumbled back. “You know how Selina is! Anyway, I told her I would likely be staying here, so we may see or hear from her soon.”

Jim groaned out lowly. Just what he needed! But… Bruce was right. In all of the time Jim has been acquainted with Selina Kyle, he has known that the girl was a very stubborn sort. That, and Jim knew she felt a certain affection for Bruce, despite her refusal to admit it in so many words. Jim lay down on his own cot before turning to face his Bonded. 

“I do know how Selina is. I just… I worry about her being out there.” Jim smiled ruefully at Bruce then requested, “Just, call me if she turns up okay, please.”

Bruce agreed readily. They all tried to go to sleep after that. Jim just hoped they would capture this Ogre before too long.

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


  
The next morning, Harvey and Jim left the penthouse together. When they reached the GCPD, they silently but unanimously agreed to get the investigation underway immediately. They both wanted to get back to their regular uninterrupted lives. 

Harvey called in the detective who had first investigated the Ogre. The first to have a loved one targeted. While reluctant initially, Jim was eventually able to convince the man to give up the information that spooked the Ogre. Apparently, the initial investigation had turned up information on the Ogre’s first victim. Julie Kemble, had worked as a nurse at a private cosmetic medical clinic uptown. 

When they got to the location, they were stuck waiting in a lobby. Harvey was drifting along a wall where there were about a dozen images of people with before and after images imposed side-by-side. One side was invariably a wrinkled or scarred version of the unblemished face on the other side. Presumably, proof the procedures this company uses works.

“Freaky, huh? You wonder how they recognize themselves after,” Harvey said in his typical irreverent way. When he noticed that Jim was fiddling with his phone, Harvey sighed exasperatedly. “Your boys are fine. Scottie is fine. No one knows where they are right now. Relax.”

“You do understand... it's because of me that they’re in danger. Anything that happens is my fault.”

“You can't hold yourself responsible for the actions of a psychopath.”

“Sure, I can.”

Rolling his eyes, Harvey’s next comment was thankfully interrupted by the arrival of the representative they had been waiting for. “Detectives, I'm Dr. Cushman. How can I help you?”

“We're looking into the murder of a woman named Julie Kemble. She worked here about eight years ago,” Jim said.

“Of course. Terrible thing. Julie was a talented nurse. But she'd only just started here when it happened. She'd been recommended by one of our patients.”

“The patient's name?”

“Well, I'm afraid I can't give you that. Confidentiality.”

“Really? You're gonna make us get a warrant?”

“Yes.” Dr. Cushman stated firmly. And that was that. 

"I specialize in fake boobs, but I got ethics. I need a warrant,” Harvey mocked as they made their way to their vehicle.

“We'll talk to Judge Harkness. I'm sure…” Jim raised his eyes to glance back at Harvey when something caught his attention. In the alley across from them was a very familiar car idling in the shadows. “That car was in front of the precinct when we left this morning.”

Jim started for the car, Harvey quick on his heels. “Jim, wait up.”

They could both see a person sitting in the driver’s seat, but not anything distinguishable. They stopped together yards from the car when the engine suddenly ignites and the lights come on, momentarily blinding them. Harvey and Jim are forced to dive blindly to the sides to avoid the car as it sped past.

They looked at each other from across the alley, Jim with his right leg half on a milk crate and Harvey with some sort of snack bag sticking out of his shirt collar. They take a brief moment to smile at one another.

Back at the precinct, Jim and Harvey had just finished briefing the Captain. There was a depressingly little amount of information to give. They had been about to discuss their next moves when a sergeant interrupted telling Jim he had a call. 

When he answered it, he tried to guess who it could be. Bruce or Alfred would call his mobile phone… “Gordon.”

“Detective. I didn't get a chance to say hello properly in the alley,” an unfamiliar voice replied. 

Jim could only get out a, “Listen to me-“ before he was interrupted.

“Don't bother tracing this. I won't be long.” 

Jim focused on the voice, trying to get age of the man or even background ambient noises in order to deduce where he might be. “I'm giving you one chance to turn yourself in. You make me come after you, and I will put you down.”

“Something tells me you've begun to buy your own press, Detective. 'The hero cop who's gonna clean up Gotham. The rising star of the GCPD.'”

“I'll stop you, that's for damn sure.”

“No, Detective, you won't. But keep on your present course, and I will kill someone you love. This is your only warning.” With that, the man hung up. 

Jim was fuming as he made his way back to Captain Essen’s office. The two in the office knew what had happened before he even opened his mouth. 

“Oh, no. Tell me that wasn't him.”

“He's used to intimidating cops,” Jim growled. “We have to show him we're not afraid.”

“And how do we do that?” Captain Essen asked skeptically.

Looking at the Captain with a grim expression, Jim said, “The press. There’s only one thing…”

Harvey shrugged as Jim broke off and looked at his partner. Jim looked back at the Captain’s mildly surprised and expectant face. “I’ve told Harvey, Captain… The truth about Alfred and I and why I live with him now. Scottie is in at the same safe house as my two are. We had a good discussion last night.”

“Wow, Gordon. Harvey, welcome to his exclusive club,” Captain Essen smiled wryly at Harvey who seemed to take that congratulations earnestly. “How did… Alfred, take that?”

“Alfred was a little hesitant at first, but I’ve been able to convince him that having my partner know about our relationship can be beneficial. After all, now Harvey knows who to contact in emergencies.” Jim explained. “Still, I think I need to discuss this option with them before I go in front of a camera. I think it’s the right choice, but I want them to have a say in it.”

At the Captain’s agreement, Jim walked out of the office to find a private nook to have this conversation.

When Bruce answered, Jim got right now to explaining the situation. He had Alfred there with him, and Scottie and Barbara apparently hovering nearby as well. 

“You're okay with this? You're sure?” Jim asks when Alfred and Bruce both gave him permission to go on with his plan.

“Yes. It's the right thing to do,” Bruce says over the line.

“Bloody stupid to mess about with any sort of psycho, I say,” Alfred grumbled. “But, yes, Master James. If going to the press will aid in catching this man, all the better. I think we all want to get back to our lives.”

With that non-so-ringing endorsement, Jim followed through with his plan. He told all of Gotham about the Ogre and about the GCPD’s complicity so far. Now, all he could do was continue with the investigation and wait for the bait to catch something.  
His partner in the meantime had been calling in the warrant for the information on the first victim of the Ogre. When it came through they found a connection to the van Groots, a wealthy Gothamite family.

The van Groot residence was eerily quiet when they got around to visiting. When their knocks garnered no answer, Jim tried the door handle. It twisted open easily. Looking back at his partner briefly, Jim pushed the door open and walked in. 

As they made their way inside they could hear the low sound of scraping and what sounded suspiciously like someone choking. Jim and Harvey both pull their weapons and head for the sound. Jim spots the man first, hanging from the ceiling by his neck. The man was still thrashing with life as Jim and Harvey rushed to get him down.

Harvey sawed at the rope holding the man as Jim hoisted him up by the thighs. When they manage to get the man down, Harvey smacks the man on the cheek and he cries out at the action. Harvey dismisses with, “He's good. Call it in. I'm gonna go check the rest of the house.”

Jim dragged the man to a large Victorian stand and handcuffed him to a leg. As he closed the handcuffs, the man spoke up weakly, “He told me but I was too slow.”

When Jim finished calling in an ambulance and backup, he moved to a grand piano standing in the room. It had a host of photos sprawled across the top. All of the photos had a person with their faces systematically scratched out. Jim was contemplating the disturbing implications when he heard Harvey call for him. 

Harvey was waiting for him at the top of an elaborate staircase. The shaken man escorted Jim to a nearby room. “Jim Gordon, Constance van Groot.”

On a bed in the middle of the room was the emaciated corpse of a woman.

Harvey deals with briefing the Captain while Jim fields the investigation of the scene. It turned out that the man attempting suicide had been the father of who could be their best suspect. When they both wrap up their personal tasks, they realized their best chance to make this lead count was to get the old man to talk. 

“Make this simple. Give us your son's name and address.”

Mr. Skolimski folded his arms stubbornly. “Or what? I'm not afraid of you.” 

“Only because you don't know me,” Jim growled 

“Listen, I get wanting to protect your son, but how many more women is he gonna have to kill before you realize he needs to be locked up?”

That seemed to pry the older man a bit out of his frigidness. He gave the two detectives a bewildered look as he asked, “What are you talking about?”

“Don't play dumb with me,” Harvey snarked. “You were hiding a rotting corpse upstairs for years, but no, no, my son's an angel, he didn't murder close to - a dozen women that we know of.”

“My son… He made one mistake. One. Anything else is lies.”

“So tell us the truth.”

So it was that Jason Skolimski’s past came into the light. Apparently, Miss van Groot had taken to the son of her trusted employee. She had spoiled the boy to the point where the boy started to believe in a fantasy of being Miss van Groot’s secret son. When the boy had confronted the aging and cruel woman, she denied it with laughter. In a rage, Skolimski killed the woman before claiming her name and fortune as he always wanted. He used the van Groot wealth to fix his apparently deformed face before going on his search for women. 

The only snag was, there was no Jason van Groot in Gotham. The reconstructive surgery clinic only leads to a sketch of the man from Dr. Cushman’s ten year lapsed memory. 

“So we have his real name, but not what alias he's using, or what he looks like beyond a decade-old sketch,” Captain Essen summarized their meager leads. “Did he say anything else on the phone today? Anything we might've missed?” 

“Nah, just warned me to back off. Told me not to believe my own press as the rising star of the GCPD,” Jim trailed off and his stomach dropped to his feet as a thought came to mind.

“What is it?” the Captain asked apprehensively.

“The paper that said that… They ran an old photo of me, from a charity gala. I wasn't alone.”

Harvey must come to the same conclusion as Jim because he dashes out after as Jim tears through the precinct. “If Scottie gets hurt…” Harvey yells.

Jim clenches his jaw and picks up the pace. “Call them.”

As Jim throws himself behind the wheel, starts the car and peels out of the garage, Harvey was already talking to his Bonded. “Scot! Where are you? Okay, stay there! Are Jim’s boys...? How about Barbara?”

Harvey slumped in relief next to him, so Jim felt safe enough to reduce his speed a bit. He was still speeding, just not as much. He even refrained from using the sirens, which was an example of his impeccable restraint, if he did say so himself. Not that he wouldn’t have used them without impunity if Harvey’s body language was any less relaxed. “Harv,” Jim growled out impatiently.

“They are all there, at Barbara’s,” Harvey assured. “Make sure everyone stays there, okay, Scot? Jim and I are on our way now.”

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the final countdown for season one! Visit my [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/blockovich) for background info. I did a post on what Barbara's additions to her penthouse would look like.  
> Standard disclaimers apply. This work is unbeta'd.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No rest from troubles.

**Chapter 12**  
  


Sitting at his favorite desk in his father’s old study, Bruce was definitely not pouting. It did not matter that Alfred kept giving him exasperated looks; Alfred couldn’t hide his matching feelings of worry. Bruce was _not_ pouting as the news played in the background.

_“The gang war rages on here in Gotham. No one knows what set this bloody turf war off, but it is commonly believed to be the result of the longtime power struggle between Salvatore Maroni and Carmine Falcone. Longtime enemies, these men have often come to blows…”_

Standing abruptly, Bruce grabbed at the photo resting on the desk and slammed it down in a shattering of glass. He shuffled through the glass carelessly and pulled the photo out.

“Still looking for secrets, are we, sir?” Alfred breaks into Bruce’s agitated search. “Or just breaking stuff?” 

“Secrets,” Bruce grumbled.

“I don't know. Whole city's going doolally around us.” Alfred turns off the news briskly and aims a politely questioning look at Bruce. “I mean, your Bonded is fighting a bloody war on the streets and you're in here worrying about your poor old dad.”

“Yes, I am,” Bruce agreed. 

“If your father had a secret life- which, I hasten to add, _he didn't_ \- I'd know about it, wouldn't I? A sober, diligent man he was. Never out gallivanting. Home every night, like clockwork, working, in this very room.”

“Yes, I remember. I wasn't allowed to disturb him while he was working.”

Alfred consented that point. “Nobody was.”

Stuck in his reminiscence, Bruce could _almost_ ignore the constant background of frustration and anxiety that was thrumming along the Bond. Bruce couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact with Alfred as he glanced down at the photo in his hand. “Classical music - he would play for hours.”

“That's right.”

“Mom and I would read books or play board games until he was done.”

“I remember,” Alfred sighed another short answer to Bruce’s musings.

“I tried to sneak in to see him, but the door was locked. Was the door always locked, Alfred? 

“Yeah, well, I suppose so, when he was working.”

“Why, though? Why lock the door? 

“That's what doors are for, innit? 

“It's in here. It's in this room. Our father's secret, it's in this room. I know it. I know it!”

As Bruce started pulling books down from the shelves, he could admit to himself that he was using the information he gathered from his jaunt into Wayne Enterprises to distract himself from his Bond. Distract from Jim and his frustrating tendency to leave Bruce alone when he needed his Bonded the most. From Jim _in danger_ while Bruce had to stay at home, safe with only the NAB giving clues at the troubles his Bonded was going through. 

The loud thud of a book falling to the floor brought Bruce out of those musings, his hold on his emotions seemed to fall with the book. He allowed himself to fall back into his father’s desk chair, folding his arms onto the desk and hiding his face away from Alfred’s concern. 

His harsh breathing slowed incrementally and Bruce wondered at all of the improbable happenstances that had brought him back to Wayne Manor this past week. It had all started after his adventure at Barbara’s and their outing to the Wayne Charity Ball. Bruce could not help but go through those events again for the hundredth time.

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


  
Bruce thought back to that morning from just a week ago; He had been hovering uselessly behind Alfred as the man and Scottie both worked to calm a disturbed Barbara down. Bruce had just been reprimanding himself for being such a stiff person who had no concept of basic human interaction and sympathetic mannerisms, when Jim and Harvey had come bursting through the front door.

Peripherally, Bruce had been aware of Harvey running to Scottie and enveloping her in a relieved hug. However, the majority of his attention on the warm arms embracing himself, Jim’s familiar scent filling Bruce with contentment. 

After the two detectives had assured themselves that their Bondeds were fine, the events of the Ball had come to light. Jim had been frustrated but understanding as Alfred described their hectic day in place of the three others still a little shook up from it. 

Bruce had listened half-heartedly from his position in Jim’s arms as Alfred glossed over their search for proper Ball attire for Scottie (admittedly a skill that both Bruce and Barbara thrived in), and explained the arrival of Selina shortly after.

Alfred described the suspicious Wayne Enterprises employee named Bunderslaw, which had led to their collective plan to investigate. 

Bruce had flushed at the rueful exasperation he felt through his Bond. 

Their plan had been for Alfred to stand guard by the entrance doors, ostensibly to protect his wounded body. Barbara and Scottie had gone as a couple- Harvey’s Bonded with Jim’s second lover. 

Bruce had been able to take that suggestion with grace with the thought that it was a good and well supported cover for Barbara to use the old excuse. Selina’s vehement support of Barbara’s supposed trials in dealing with being jilted by her two lovers did not help Bruce’s aspirations of being calm and mature, but Bruce had made it through by severe act of will. 

Alfred had glossed over Selina and Bruce’s interaction with Bunderslaw, as he had not been privy to the exact details. He then finished with the details of the man that had been haunting the GCPD’s investigations for years. Bruce himself had not gotten a clear look at the man, but Alfred was very thorough in his iterations. 

That had been when Barbara had to admit to having had shown the very man Jim and Harvey had been looking for into her apartment just two nights before Jim had called asking for safe haven. 

Jim had been devastated at his seeming evidence of his complete failure of his. Everyone noticed, even not being connected as Bruce and he were. Bruce had burrowed further into Jim’s chest and had wrapped his arms tightly around his Bonded’s waist. 

Harvey was the one who broke into Jim’s obvious self-castigation with a, “Jim it's not your fault.”

Shaking his head roughly, Jim followed Bruce’s example and hugged the younger tight, resting his cheek on Bruce’s head. “I did this. I pressed Loeb, he sent the Ogre after me, and I didn't stop. It was bad enough I knowingly put you all in danger. I didn't even think of how my past with you, Barbara, would come up.”

“You were doing your job,” Barbara spoke up for the first time in an attempt to reassure. Her shaky voice had not lent much strength to her assertion, Bruce remembers thinking.

“But I should've known,” Jim spoke into Bruce’s hair.

“How? We weren't together. Do you blame yourself for having your Initial Conversation sooner than expected?” Barbara had persisted.

“It's my responsibility. There's nothing you can say that changes that. Whatever happens now, it's on me.” And Bruce had felt through their Bond that Jim truly believed that. There was no way Bruce could see of convincing him otherwise.

“What do we do now? Should we move locations again?” Alfred had broken into the debate, ever the voice of reason.

In the end, they had opted to stay. No matter where they moved, the Ogre likely knew of the place. Wayne Manor was too large, Scottie’s place too small, and hotels would have insufficient security. At least at Barbara’s they had the benefit of being in high ground, with limited access to her door. Also, Jim and Harvey were extra motivated to catch the Ogre after the whole Wayne Charity debacle, but they weren’t going to leave their loved ones without the best protection available. They had called in a few officers to help watch the penthouse covertly. 

Due to all of those revelations Bruce hadn’t let himself begrudge that Jim had to leave when Captain Essen had called with information on the whereabouts of the Ogre.

So, with more hugs all around, and a warm kiss on his cheek, Jim had left with Harvey leaving Bruce with a still shaken Barbara, a worried Scottie, a very confused Selina, and a stoic Alfred.

None of them had realized how open their conversation had been until Selina had questioned pointedly, “So, Jim was really worried, huh?” 

The rest of them had looked to one another worriedly, Bruce himself frozen in indecision. He could have easily used that instance to finally tell Selina; after all, he had just been the perfect example of a limpet in Jim’s arms moments before, hadn’t he…? He should have probably told her then…

But Alfred had stopped the potential confession by pointedly answering, “Well, we aren’t together just for kicks, are we? Jim cares about his family dearly, doesn’t he?”

Bruce could have kissed his butler, for everything really, but for that moment in particular. It had been a great example of how attuned Alfred was to his charges’ needs. To know that Bruce wasn’t quite ready to tell his first friend about his Bond….

As the day went on, they all had found the edges of their penthouse cage quickly, and were on their way to starting a fidgeting club, when Selina finally caved with a frustrated yell.

“We cannot remain stuck in this god-awful excuse of a swanky place. Barbara, I’m sorry, but this crowd is not worth the free food. We either need to do something, or I am out of here!”

“And what, pray tell, would you suggest we do?” Alfred asked pointedly.

“I dunno! Anything but rotting in this place!” Selina had flopped dramatically onto a lounge chair, but had quickly sat up again, a manic gleam in her eyes. She had reached into her coat pocket and pulled out the key she had copied from Bunderslaw at the Charity. “Or we could actually make use of my skillful and invaluable work tonight.”

Alfred had stood at his greatest height, hands folded behind his back in his best impression of an unmoving mountain. “Absolutely not.”

In the end, they had (almost) all agreed that staying in the penthouse for one more day would be torture. So, it had only taken Bruce a bit of skill to help Selina convince the others to create a plan to infiltrate Wayne Enterprises. It had had the added bonus of distracting them from the looming threat of the Ogre.

Alfred had, of course, been the most hesitant. However, he had received news that lead to his own more personal need of a distraction. Just as Alfred had been finishing a long-winded list of reasons they were all to stay in the penthouse, a knock had come to the door. It had been a messenger about Alfred’s friend Reggie. 

Bruce had completely forgotten about Reggie. The conversation he had with Selina on the phone before leaving for Barbara’s had been pushed out of his thoughts entirely. At that thought, he had looked to Selina, only to see a very pronounced look of guilt on her face. She must have forgotten as well in all the Ogre excitement.

The Sargent who brought the news had asked if Alfred was available to identify the body. However, with the situation they had been in, Alfred had seen no way to leave his charge. He had been forced to decline and Bruce could still see how much it had hurt his butler to decline.

“I'm sorry, Alfred. I know he was your friend,” Bruce had attempted to console with a hand to his butler’s arm.

“Just doesn't make any sense. Reggie was just at the Manor… What could’ve happened?” Alfred had briefly squeezed Bruce’s hand absently. “Doesn't matter what he was like in the end. I will want to see he gets a proper send-off. I'll have to plan that this evening, after we visit Wayne Enterprises. We may even find out what Reggie had been hired to look for.”

So, they had all been in agreement on infiltrating Bruce’s family’s company. And what a mess that had been. Alfred, Scottie, and Barbara had joined him for his tour. Selina had left soon after the news about Reggie had reached them. Bruce couldn’t blame her for her abrupt departure, and even if he had, he would have forgiven her for the key she had left with Bruce before disappearing out the window.

So, it had been a bit crowded as a Wayne Enterprises executive personally showed the four around the building. When they had located Bunderslaw’s office, Scottie and Barbara had acted as the distraction, asking for some sort of womanly advice or something, Bruce hadn’t listened too hard for whatever they were whispering conspiratorially about with their escort. 

Bruce and Alfred had taken that opportunity to sneak into Bunderslaw’s office. Unfortunately, it had all been a plan and Bunderslaw had known all along about Bruce’s attempt to uncover any dirty dealings through Bunderslaw. Bruce still burned at the memory of man’s condescending manner at having caught them. 

“Hello, Bruce, Mr. Pennyworth. I've been expecting you. Ever since your friend borrowed my key, I've been expecting you. Even canceled my trip.”

“We tend not to accept treats from men who hire spies,” Alfred had declined benevolently.

“I hired your comrade to find out what you knew. I never intended harm to come to anyone,” Bunderslaw waved the accusation away. He had then focused on Bruce. “I told the board you were a special case, that you need the talk early.” 

Bunderslaw had then explained that Bruce’s father had also found out about the dark side of Wayne Enterprises, and had let it be. That is what burned Bruce so badly. He couldn’t let himself believe his father- _their father_ would do any such thing. Bruce couldn’t even imagine how Jim would react if it were true… _which it wasn’t_.

The only silver lining of the failed investigation had been meeting Lucius Fox. Fox had escorted the four of them out and imparted some welcome information to Bruce.

“Bruce, your father was a true Stoic.” Fox had murmured lowly through stiff lips. “He kept his best self… hidden. That's all I'll say. Good luck.”

It had been on their way out Wayne Enterprises that their crazy week had taken the challenge and took it to a whole new level of unfortunate. A well-dressed, dark haired gentleman had stepped out in front of them all, landing right into Barbara’s personal space. He had whispered too low for Bruce to hear, but the look of fear on both her and Scottie’s faces had been revealing enough. 

Alfred had tried to step in then, but had frozen briefly before pushing Bruce back behind him. 

The man had then spoken loudly enough for them all to hear. “Barbara, if you do not come with me right now, I will shoot your _lover_ right into his still healing abdomen.”

The way that the man had said lover had been so filled with vitriol, Bruce had almost missed when Barbara had agreed to leave with the man. 

Scottie had been crying while Bruce watched numbly as Barbara had gotten into the man’s car and been driven away. He could still see her sad face looking back at them through the window.

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


  
Barbara was back with them now, Bruce repeated to himself. That catastrophe his decision had led to was rectified just a little when Jim had swept in and saved the day. With a bit of help from Alfred. 

Apparently, even in such a stressful situation, Alfred had the wherewithal to use his phone to call Jim on the sly. The open phone channel had led to her swift return.

Still, there had been some damage done to her in the few hours she had been with the Ogre. All Bruce knew was that her parents had been killed and she had been extremely shook-up about the whole thing.

She was at Wayne Manor at that very moment, locked up in a guest room. None of them had thought she should be alone after whatever she went through. Bruce still didn’t know for sure because none of them would tell him. Bruce knew through the NAB that Jim had once again gotten into a fight, and Scottie had felt something similar happen to Harvey, but not the specifics.

Pulling himself out of his morose wonderings, Bruce lifted his head with a thought. “Alfred, I never asked you. How are the plans for Reggie going? 

“Finished at last. Not really, uh, an experience I'd care to repeat, Master Bruce. But then again, the Reggie I knew died years ago.”

With everything that had happened, and with how glum Alfred looked, Bruce brought up the fact that both of them were trying to avoid. “Alfred, after you were hurt, do you remember that phone call I had with Selina before we went to stay at Barbara’s? Selina went looking for Reggie on my behalf… and she found where he was staying.”

Alfred’s face took on a dark contemplation with each word Bruce spoke. “Did she, now?” 

“I don’t know what happened… but she might.”

“That’s just great, innit. I’ll just pop out to her house to ask her… Oh, _wait_! She has no bloody roots, no home to track her down to!” Alfred snapped.

“There’s no need for that, Alfred,” Bruce scolded lightly. “I can find Selina.”

“If she wants to be found.”

“In the meantime, can we please continue searching?” Bruce asked with forced calmness. He pointedly stood up from the chair and aimed for the bookcase again. 

“What exactly are we looking for, Master Bruce?” 

“When I find it, I'll know,” Bruce asserted.

Alfred sat down in exhaustion, pushing a few books out of the way. “Enough searching, Master B. There's nothing here. Now, your father was a good man, a flawed man, like anyone else. Doesn't mean he had a secret life.”

“My intuition's nearly always correct,” Bruce boasted as he pulled a few more books down.

“Yeah, well. It's a common delusion, I find. Arkham's full of men whose intuitions are always correct. There are none so blind.”

That simple phrase struck such a cord in Bruce, he almost stalled in dawning realization. “None so blind. Marcus Aurelius. Marcus Aurelius!” 

“What about him?” Alfred asked perplexed. 

“He was a Roman emperor,” Bruce explained as he frantically started rifling through the books he had already removed from the shelves.

“Yes, well, I'm fully aware of that, Master Bruce.”

“And a stoic. I think I remember he was a stoic, like my father.” That is when Bruce found the book he was looking for. He brandished it for Alfred to see. “Lucius Fox called my father a stoic.”

“Lots of people are called stoic. Basically, means a hard nut. Doesn't say much. Doesn't mean it's a bloody clue, does it?”

“It's a philosophy, Alfred. It's a way of life." 

“Maybe… Maybe that as well, I suppose, but…” 

Bruce had reached the back of the book when he noticed that there was a loose flap. He moved it out of the way and there was what he had been looking for. A remote. “Ah!” 

“Oh…” 

“What is it, do you think?” Bruce held up the remote. It was small and thin with only one large square button. 

“I don't know and I don't care, and don't you dare press that bloody button.”

“Why not?” Of course Bruce was going to push the button! Otherwise, what would be the point of the whole adventure with Wayne Enterprises? 

“It could be a bomb,” was Alfred’s weak reply.

“Alfred, that seems improbable.” And with that, Bruce pushed the button, unable to resist a bit of a flourish as he did so. For a moment, it seemed as if nothing had happened. Then they heard the music.

Alfred sounded distinctly relieved as he said “It's a stereo.”

Bruce had just about given into disappointment to mirror Alfred’s relief when a crunching and grinding noise sounded as the fireplace started to retreat into the wall. Alfred and Bruce shared a brief disbelieving look before they both cautiously approached the new opening. Bruce was the first to poke his head around the corner. What he saw vindicated all of his hard searching. In the very study that Bruce had spent countless hours doing homework, researching his parent’s murders, enjoying Jim’s and Alfred’s company, a hidden staircase leading down into darkness was hidden behind a fireplace. This was arguably the second best discovery he had ever made!

Turning to either gloat or gush, Bruce wasn’t sure yet, he noticed that there was another person in on their discovery.

“Barbara? Are you feeling better?” Bruce asked concernedly because Barbara did not actually _look_ like she was feeling better. Her hair was tangled, her pajamas wrinkled, and her eyes wide and red-rimmed. She looked almost feral.

For the second time in as many days, Bruce was pushed subtly behind Alfred’s back. 

“What’s going on?” Barbara asked in a wispy voice.

“Nothing much,” Alfred said with false cheer. “Just uncovering _another_ secret entrance. You know how these old Manors are. Dime a dozen.” 

As Alfred spoke, he was slowly shuffling Bruce towards the door to the hallway. Bruce tried to look around Alfred’s shoulder to see what had the butler so spooked. Barbara just looked tired and a little confused. Almost child-like, really. If there wasn’t that painful looking tension in her shoulders. 

“My parents… they never told me any secrets. They didn’t include me in any… important details. Didn’t include their _Blank_ daughter in their lives!” Barbara’s increasingly venomous voice suddenly broke on those last words. She continued in a whisper, “I’ll never be in on the secret… Just like he said. I’ll always be outside...” 

Alfred had maneuvered Bruce halfway across the room by the time Barbara had trailed off. “Now, Miss Kean. That’s not true. You aren’t alone right now, are ya? Me ‘n the Masters want you around. And there’s a secret staircase right in front of you! See, you’re included in our secret staircase. …What are you doing? No- Don’t do it!” 

Bruce was suddenly pushed unceremoniously to the floor behind the sofa. He heard a swish of air and a dull thump, followed by Barbara’s breathy voice muttering, “Bruce is not alone. Jim is not alone. They are not alone together. Am I making you uncomfortable, Alfred? You shouldn’t be. You should understand. You are alone too!”

Another swish of air, this time accompanied by a muted grunt from Alfred. That was all that Bruce could take. He wasn’t going to sit idle when Alfred needed him. So, Bruce cautiously sat up and peeked over the top of the couch. What he saw stopped his heart before pushing it into over-drive. 

Alfred had the sharp end of a fireplace poker in a strong one-handed grip. The other hand was wrapped around his torso, where Bruce knows he still was very sore. Barbara had the poker in a two-handed grip and was putting her whole body-weight into it.  
Frantically searching around for his phone, Bruce’s attention was caught again when there was a louder thump and a groan from Alfred. He seemed to have slipped when he stepped on one of the books Bruce had left lying around in his desperate search earlier. Alfred was now curled on the ground, his arms curled protectively around himself. 

The butler was attempting to move to stand, but Bruce could see Barbara pull the fire poker back in an unmistakable move to swing down upon Alfred. Bruce grabbed the first thing to hand and flung it at Barbara. “Leave him alone! I’m the one you are really upset with. I took Jim, remember?”

Barbara’s intimidating stare moved slowly to Bruce. A sweet smile over-took her face, and she nodded childishly. “You’re right!” The she was moving swiftly towards Bruce, the sweet smile still on her face.

Panicking a little, Bruce started lobbing anything he could at Barbara, trying to back away at the same time. She batted the items away with ferocity. It made Bruce more determined to get the disturbed woman away from Alfred. 

He had just made it to the doorway, frantically trying to strategize through his terror, when he felt an arm around his waist, and he was wrenched out of the room. He was quickly passed into another set of arms, a very familiar warmth settling in his Bond at the contact. He threw his arms around Jim’s neck, exclaiming, “Alfred is still in there!”

“Shh. shh, doll. Harvey has it under control,” Bruce’s hero said soothingly. 

When Bruce pulled back fractionally from Jim, he turned around in time to see Alfred standing, ready to help Harvey as he cuffed a laughing Barbara on the floor. 

When Alfred gave a stiff smile their way, Bruce smiled back tentatively before he turned into his Bonded, relaxing for the first time in what felt like a very long time. The sudden release of tension made Bruce realize how extremely tired he was. He was just going to close his eyes for one second. Get his bearings, as it were. Just one second, in Jim’s safe and warm embrace…

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


  
Bruce woke up in his bed, comfortable and warm, Jim’s soft breathing music to his tired soul. Bruce turned his face to see Jim’s resting right next to his pillow. He was still in his suit and there were worry lines etched in the corners of his eyes. His mouth was down turned, even in sleep. Bruce reached out and gently pushed a lengthening strand of hair back from Jim’s face. Jim instantly jerked awake, his eyes lasering onto Bruce as soon as they opened. The smile that broke out didn’t get rid of the worry lines, but it did give Jim a healthier complexion.

Bruce knew that the past few weeks were not an outlier for how their lives would turn out. He knew in his bones that he and Jim had a difficult journey ahead of them. Their lives would not get easier.

He also knew that they had each other. They had Alfred, and Harvey and Scottie. Even Barbara and Selina, if they could figure out those troublesome females. That was enough. 

And, Bruce had smiles like this from Jim. Smiles that lit up Jim’s whole face, his blue eyes soft and sparking. A smile just for Bruce. 

As long as Jim smiled at Bruce like that, he knew they were up to any challenge to come.

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  


  
End Part One.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... This was a beast to get out. I'm not entirely happy with where I went, but I felt that I had to publish or I would drive myself crazy with yet another revision. 
> 
> I don't know if I will visit this story again. For now, part one is done.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find background research and information about this fic at [my tumble account.](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/blockovich)


End file.
